Shared Responsibility
by Uhlowl22
Summary: A choice made without knowledge may as well be a shot in the dark, and will almost always end in tragedy. Our Heroes and Villians alike will soon find out the truth in that. Sylar, Oc, Peter, Matt, Nathan, Claire
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, lord I wish I did. Only the original character(s) are mine.

This basically starts after "Exposed". So far there is only one difference to mention, Sylar didn't meet Luke.

This my first attempt at this so **please review!! **Many thanks and enjoy :)

Chapter 1

He was like a statue perched on the edge of the ancient mattress. The room they had placed him in remained generic as he made silent comparisons with all of the motels he had stayed in over the last year. On the highway he had passed a sign displaying an easily recognizable symbol; a sleeping man tucked neatly into a bed. Nearing the exit he debated the danger associated with staying in one place too long, even if it was just a night…or two… at the most.

Upon arriving at Samson Grays' home to find it empty there had been no reason to think that Government Agents, or Military Swat as the case may be, would already have been there waiting to ambush him. Sylar was not a man who could be easily surprised, but their presence had momentarily startled and distracted him to the point where they had gained fleeting success in wrangling him. Of course, he had easily dispatched them keeping only one alive to interrogate.

_Agent Simpson…no Simmons. Daniel._

The man deserved a nod for loyalty as he gave up not one piece of useful information while Sylar went from limb to limb shocking him with _just_ enough voltage to have him screaming in agony. When Sylar cut off two of his fingers the man called out to God to help him. Sylar had scoffed at him then. For more than 24 hours he took Agent Simmons apart, figuring out who he was, but not one iota of knowledge concerning his father was to be found in the inner workings of the agents mind. He left the body limp and useless on the living room recliner in Samson's home, after which he just started walking.

The lights in his room remained unused and the curtains drawn which casted a sickly yellow glow throughout the already squalid space. At the foot of the bed, in a crumpled mass, lay a black button down shirt and black slacks, buried beneath which were a pair of black shoes. An inconvenient spattering of blood had set in and left darker than dark stains, making the outfit almost impossible to wear again. He pushed out the sigh caught at the back of his throat and cringed at the uninvited memory of his mother telling him that he should wear green more often to bring out the brown of his eyes.

The temperature outside was a mild 79 degrees, but inside the room Sylar had the air conditioning cranked up as high as it would go. With most of his clothing on the floor in a bloody pile the gray tank top and black boxers he wore did little to fend off goose bumps as they started popping up on his arms and chest. A shiver cut through him as he allowed his body to free fall back onto the undisturbed comforter and pillows. While staring up at the ceiling he permitted his mind to wander.

A year ago he was a quiet watchmaker, a lonely nobody, Gabriel Gray. Had anyone taken the time to pay attention they would have realized that Gabriel had once been an unassuming, sweet, thoughtful, intelligent, shy man full of dreams, starved of approval, and of love. His awkwardness and childlike innocence provided the perfect breeding ground for high expectations when Chandra Suresh had found him, talking about abilities and _being special_. Gabriel had been so pleased and excited. He longed to feel validated in his excessive yearning to be not just different, but better. His mother, though loving in certain aspects of her parenting abilities, had always made Gabriel feel like he wasn't enough. No matter what he did she just wouldn't see him for him, and his father…the fact that he left told Gabriel all he needed to know about how the man felt regarding his son. After having been invisible for all of his life he thought this was his opportunity to be seen. The hunger his yet unrealized ability stimulated would soon propagate in him a feeling to replace the sentiment he had always been deprived of, acceptance.

At first, Gabriel had not realized the implications of what was happening to him. He didn't have an ability that was easily demonstrated. Gabriel had in fact assumed his talent for fixing watches and understanding their complexities was merely that, a talent. Suresh had wrongly assumed that each ability would take on some form of physical manifestation, and when Gabriel had failed to deliver Suresh decided to give up. Under the influence of rejection fueled resentment, he accused Suresh of betraying him. And he did feel betrayed. Once outside on the street, he realized he held in his hand the post-it note with the address of another "special" person, as Suresh had called him. Gabriel had wanted only to call the man, tell him to beware of Dr. Suresh, and that he wasn't going to help him just lie to him. Sylar remembered how he had gripped the receiver so tight, constricting his hand around it as the wheels turned in his head convincing himself that it would be better to explain all of it to the man in person.

Once he killed the telekinetic Brian Davis, Gabriel experienced something he never dreamed of. To look into a person's brain and know everything about them, what made them tick, he felt like a god. He took his _first_ power that day, and by the next had allowed the guilt to nearly destroy him. The old saying that power corrupts had never been more true than in Gabriel's case. He had started out as an innocent and could have been saved. Tragically, Elle decided to follow orders rather than her heart. It was a mistake that so many have since paid the price for.

Part of him wanted to believe that he was exactly _just_ what his mother had always told him he was, that she might finally have been proud…if she were alive. In the very beginning he remembered having been so distraught at what he feared becoming, but his exceptional ability of intuitive aptitude inspired a sense of entitlement, an unquenchable desire to understand everything. Knowledge, after all, is power and he wanted power. He fought with himself for control, but over time began to savor the exhilaration his ability gifted him. He made himself believe it was a blessing, an overdue debt for all of the self loathing he had lived with that had finally been paid. He convinced himself that the others didn't deserve what they had, so he would take it instead.

If she had just let him die…let the rope strangle the life out of him, everything would be different. Sometimes Sylar wished she had just turned around and walked out the door. It would have hurt much less never having known her instead of letting himself trust her and be grateful for her. He had thought he'd made an actual friend. A betrayal like the one Elle visited upon Gabriel was the kind that hollowed a person out for a time. But the moment he hung the rope around his neck and kicked out the chair he knew he was already hollow, unable to feel anything but emptiness. Knowing he had only been a mark, an assignment for her, it had caused a chain reaction that solidified the self destructive fear that he wasn't good enough…that he really didn't have anything or anyone except for the ability he had killed for.

The rareness of his _own_ ability was a topic that he had never given much thought. It wasn't even until the Angela and Arthur debacle that he began to understand what his true ability was. So much time had been spent finding others like him and taking their gifts that he never considered exactly how or why he could do the things he did. Truthfully he avoided thinking about any of it. His hell was surely not a private one, but there was no reason to ponder over a stranger that might be experiencing the same sort of horror, the same hunger that he endured and in the end submitted to. The hardest thoughts were the ones that told him that if there _was _someone out there like him and they were able to retain their anonymity, then _that_ person was certainly not on a killing spree to steal abilities. Gabriel never wanted to become Sylar. He never even_ considered_ that a man like Sylar could be living inside of him filling with rage and heartlessness just waiting to be on the outside. The part of him that was still Gabriel despaired over the thought of someone else having control over something he had no will to wield. The other part, Sylar, would have liked nothing more than to find the ability doppelganger, crack open their skull and find out what would make them so similar yet so different.

Now, lying in an unfamiliar room surrounded by stale air and near silence, save for the buzz of the AC, doubt crept it's way through him. His ability was extraordinary. To have access to the sort of knowledge that sat at Gabriel's fingertips was a power that only God should have. Sylar, however, was all but positive that God had turned a blind eye to him a long time ago. In the end, Gabriel lived with the cursed knowledge that part of him enjoyed being a monster.

***

The worst part about being alone was that there was no one to laugh with when life produced a rare funny moment. Olivia had always loved to laugh, since she was a child her laughter bounced off the walls and ceilings of her modest home. She hadn't been alone there; people had loved her and protected her there. But as all children do, Olivia grew up and moved away. Freedom, independence, self reliance…these were all words she had used to convince herself that one of life's greatest moments was the day she moved out on her own. Something she had thought about, indeed banked on, was how being on one's own was just another way of saying _being alone_.

Olivia lived in a small apartment building a few miles from Rutgers University. It wasn't a lively part of the city which had been one of the draws for her. Even after a year she hadn't decorated the apartment with any personal touches, no pictures, no artwork, nothing. The only things she had really unpacked were her books which waited, staked haphazardly all throughout the limited space, to be placed on a proper book shelf. She stood in the middle of her living/dinning room looking down at a pile of fiction fantasy novels. Stacked at the bottom were a few of the Harry Potter books. She half smiled to herself remembering how she stood in line at midnight to get her copy of the fifth book in the series.

She looked up at the window and tried to stare through the fog of dirt and debris that had caked itself onto the outside of the glass. It was sunny but not hot, thankfully. Running the air conditioner cost a small fortune, one she didn't have. Her job running a cash register during third shift at the local all hours supermarket paid barely enough to keep up with rent and food. The only view she had from her window was another building. Across the way she could make out a woman standing on the balcony of her apartment holding a baby dressed in a yellow onesy. She watched them, briefly wondering the woman's' name, and whether the baby might be a boy or girl. The child kept trying to grab a fistful of mommy's hair while she tickled its feet. Taking a deep breath Olivia crossed her arms and closed her eyes, turning away from the window and peering back into her near empty apartment. She had made no attempt to involve herself into the local community, had no friends and didn't speak to anyone unless spoken to first. It wasn't that she didn't want to make friends, she was just…hesitant.

Social grace had never been a talent of hers, and she didn't care much for large groups of people, they made her nervous. When she decided the year before to not only move out of her parents home, but to another state, she knew that making friends would be very difficult for her. Throughout childhood she had retained a small group of friends that she held dear and would have done, and often did, most anything for. They were people she knew from as young as the age of five, when things were much easier, before insecurity became a part of her vocabulary. Over time they moved away, off to college or to get married…and finally it had been her turn. She was never one to let people in, with the exception of her mother. It's accurate to say that she would bend over backwards to help a friend, but Olivia didn't make new ones easily. Most people didn't have the time or energy to climb over the walls she had put up to keep out the public at large. Then one day the public at large was all she could feel inside and making a new friend seemed an even more ridiculous endeavor.

Nobody knew she had stayed up _every _night during the two weeks before she left simply unable to fall asleep. She sat in her childhood bedroom staring at boxes that had slowly been filling with her belongings, and would curl around herself trying to keep everything inside right where it was, and keep anything foreign from getting in. Leaving would be hard, she knew that, heard it in her head every single day. Olivia felt safe there in her blue and yellow bedroom with the curtains blowing and the wind purring its vibrations as it passed invisible through the screen.

Her thoughts had begun to linger on the one thing she tried hardest to ignore…she quietly referred to it as her "quirk". She spoke to no one about it, indeed rarely allowed _herself_ to think about it. The strange way her heart would accelerate when she passed through the living room as her father watched his favorite sports team lose, or how a visit with her 4 month old niece would put her in a mood so airy that she thought she might float away. The day her mothers dog had died Olivia thought she was going to throw up and die from sadness at the same time. Tina, her mother, had loved that dog for all 13 years of its yappy little life; Olivia had hated the cotton ball Pomeranian.

She knew it wasn't something everyone experienced which left her with no option except to ignore whenever it happened. But, Olivia was a bright person, not ignorant enough to think everything about her had remained unchanged. Empathy wasn't a foreign word to her considering the cherished collection of books she had accumulated over the years. She learned what little she could from books about psychics and mind readers seeking only to comfort her fears about what might be happening to her.

She had waited a year after noticing her "quirk" before making the final push at moving away. She decided on Jersey because it was far enough away to inhibit frequent visits from her family…but not too far in case she _needed_ to go home. She could have gone _anywhere_ and been invisible, but Newark had kind of jumped off the map at her, so that's where she went.

Olivia grabbed at her purse setting atop her only table searching for a pack of cigarettes she knew where buried somewhere beneath the junk. She reached down to the bottom feeling for the distinctive square box when she felt a sharp pinch on the tip of her ring finger. She yanked her hand out in surprise and examined the skin for any sign of a wound. A small drop of blood had formed on the tip near the nail and she moved to run it under the faucet before attempting to cover the awkward spot with a band aid. The water ran cool over her skin and trickled down to her wrist sending a small shiver up her arm. The shiver continued to travel into her shoulder making its way into her chest where it gained intensity and momentum spreading out through all of her limbs. She froze, the sensation being unmistakable.

In the year she spent living in the building she had become accustomed to the unique emotional climate of her surroundings. It was like tasting frosting without eating the cake, even thought she wasn't exactly absorbing the emotions she still felt _something_, just not in as much detail. She found that pushing back at the emotions as they tried to make their way inside formed a sort of layer between her and everyone else. She often thought of herself as being surrounded by a swarm of bees buzzing around waiting to get their stinger through her skin. Yet no matter the force she pushed with, when something changed she knew it right away, like a vibration in a force field.

What went through her as she rinsed her wounded finger was something she wasn't able to identify right away. She struggled to categorize what she was feeling and finally it dawned on her…determination, aggravation, anxiousness...and it was coming from more than one person. The feelings grew stronger with each passing second, panic began to snake through her limbs trying to lock them into place leaving her unable to move, but she was stronger than that. At the time she wouldn't have been able to explain it, but she was used to that. She just knew in that instant that she needed to get out of her apartment, right away! Not even bothering to turn off the water, but clever enough to snatch up her purse she scrambled for the window, knocking over several stacks of books in her haste. She yanked it open and the wood gave a stubborn moan as she forced it up as far as it would go. The fire escape led right to the alley below, four stories down. Olivia was never one for heights but tried to make the best of it by glancing up to the sky and remembering what a nice day it was outside. She heard a number of heavy footsteps in the hallway maybe three doors down. With one longing stare at the only possessions she was sad to lose she closed the window and started down the escape. A second later her door flew open and Government Agents entered, guns raised to an empty apartment.

***

Mohinder awoke to an increasingly intense itch on his nose that had been plaguing him over the last two days. His head hung down and the waves in his hair stuck to the slimy layer of perspiration that had gathered on his skin. The muscles in his neck ached beyond belief so he had abandoned constant attempts at keeping it held up hours ago. His back was curved at such an inhuman angle it felt like he might never stand upright again. Squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could, he tried to picture any place in the world but his cell in building 26. Hiro Nakamura could teleport, and for an instant Mohinder wished his ability had been the same. While his enhanced strength and agility proved an invaluable asset in recent weeks, months even, it had been no help during the two hours he spent pulling at his chains the day before. He was sure that if he could just get them free from the floor whatever resistance waited for him outside the cell could be handled. For the time being however he remained perfectly still, covered in sweat, exhausted, itchy…and scared. Too many images continued running through his mind in a blur giving him not one moment of peace, as if he could find peace with his arms cuffed to a metal rod.

No matter what distraction he attempted to conjure he could not stop thinking about all of them; Matt, Daphne, Molly, Peter… He was racked with guilt. His silence concerning what he was now positive would be the greatest threat they had ever faced, was not some sort of attempt at hiding anything from his friends, especially something that would affect all of them in the ways it already had. What he said to Matt had been the absolute truth. Not for one second had he believed what Noah told him. He never thought that what was happening now, could _ever_ happen.

_My mistake._

The United States Government using anti-terrorism based laws to lock up innocent people out of fear, out of some misguided attempt to imprison the enemy before there was even really an enemy to imprison…it was never a possibility in Mohinder's mind. Then yesterday Nathan made it very clear that it _is_ real, it _is _happening, and they _would_ succeed. The video of Daphne strapped to a gurney was meant to soften him, play on his emotions, and it had worked too well. The entire night, while waiting for _some_ form of unconsciousness to find him, he could do nothing but dwell on the recent past. If only he hadn't injected himself, if only he could have saved poor Nikki, if only he had been able to kill Sylar when he had the chance, if only he had believed his father, gone with him to New York before it all started maybe he could have…but his thoughts trailed off as he realized none of that mattered anymore. The worry over his declining physical condition, guilt about loosing the cure for Nikki, the cowardice he carried with him over letting a monster live…all of it was secondary to what now engulfed him.

They weren't animals to be locked up in a cage and altered. Every person with an ability was born with what they have, with the exception of a handful of people. A sneer stuck to his lips as he thought of how ironic life could be. Nathan was one of those people not born with the genetic mutation that caused abilities, _His_ ability was synthetic. And yet he would be the one to destroy them. What Mohinder called irony, Nathan would most certainly say was his destiny.

Mohinder's arm twitched causing the chains to rattle against the smooth concrete floor. He gritted his teeth at the noise as it had endlessly mocked him during the two hours he pulled and yanked at them with all of his strength. It was not a noise he ever wanted to hear again in his life, if he was given the chance to have a life.

Nathan's offer to him echoed in his head, driving him to the brink of frustration. If he helped Nathan with the scientific aspect of his plans then Mohinder could have at least a small amount of freedom, they surely wouldn't continue to keep him locked in a room chained to the floor. But then he would just be letting himself be used, again. He was not unaware of the fact that even though he was one of the people targeted by Nathan's plans, he was valuable. The Company had known it, and Nathan knew it too. Without him, Nathan could never hope to implement phase two of his plan. Mohinder knew that rationalizing a reason to work for the Government as they hunted down his friends and put them in boxes without windows was the last thing he should be doing. But all he had ever wanted to do was help these people. And despite his now being one of them, his strongest asset had always been his background in genetics. He was quite possibly the only scientist on the planet that could attempt to do what Nathan was asking.

A murmur of voices started in the hall outside a second before the door to his cell swung open. A welcomed breeze brushed the back of his neck and he sighed. Nobody said anything and Mohinder wondered if his door hadn't just been left open to taunt him, show him how confident they were that he wouldn't be able to escape. But a few seconds later the click of an expensive pair of shoes against polished concrete could be heard coming down the hallway. The shoes rounded the corner and walked right up to him. Mohinder glanced sideways at the shiny leather, not a scuff on them, they were perfect. A trickle of sweat escaped his matted hair and slid into the corner of his eye stinging him enough to bring tears. He knew who had come to see him for the second time in two days, and he knew what he wanted. Mohinder had about 15 seconds to make a decision that would inevitably affect everything.


	2. Chapter 2

Again, I don't own Heroes, wish I did...all that good stuff. Please, tell me what you think, **Review me!! **

Chapter 2

Matt's pacing was more than uncontrollable, it was frantic. Amidst the computers and art supplies that seemed a rather odd combination to Peter at the moment, he struggled to focus his attention on distracting Matt from his current activity. Peter had continued to watch him for over an hour seeing no end in sight. Isaac's loft had been the only place Peter could think to take them after snatching Matt right out of Noah's grasp. It wasn't exactly on the list of least likely places any of them might show up but it was a split second decision. The place had been used for so many different things since Sylar murdered Isaac, all of them having, in some way, been related to people with abilities. Peter knew they couldn't stay there, and what was worse was the fact that he didn't exactly have anywhere else in mind to go. The furthest he had been thinking ahead since the plane crash was about 15 minutes into the future, flying by the seat of his pants in other words.

Kidnapping Noah had ultimately given them nothing more useful than a name, Danko. Just one more person to worry about defeating and throw blame at, that and the source of Matt's current agitated state; Daphne was still alive. Peter wished he could just get inside Matt's head, know what he was cooking up in that endowed mind of his. There was no way Matt would not go after Daphne; Peter knew that without a doubt. He almost reached out to touch his distraught friend as he made what could have been his 10,000th lap around the apartment, but thought better of swapping his flight for Matt's mind reading ability at the moment.

Peter just had to focus, this was his thing. He knew how to talk to people, how to reach them, it was his talent when all he had been was a relatively unremarkable human. Of late he came to realize that he had relied on his abilities an unhealthy amount of the time. The loss of his ability, of all his abilities had left him feeling cold and incomplete, rather than with the vigorous and cozy sensation that being a hero had cultivated. There had been no relief; no happiness to be free of the burden being special had put on him, on all of them. His thoughts had been secretly bent on gaining his ability back since the moment his father took it. _Now_ he had a fraction of the force he once possessed, but that didn't mean he couldn't still be powerful.

Once upon a time it had been about helping people, being something extraordinary; save the cheerleader, save the world. Time changes so many things…Nathan was not the brother he loved, not anymore. Peter shook his head trying to clear the noise of Nathan's words to him after flying them both out of Pinehurst.

_It's not what I would have done._

The sound of his brother's voice haunted him, gave him everything he needed to push through what was about to come. Nathan chose his side, and Peter knew the time had come for him to make his position as clear as Nathan had. He also knew he couldn't do it alone, and would need as much help as there was available. Help could only come in the form of people like him, and finding them would be more difficult than trying not to let Nathan find him.

"Molly!" Matt exclaimed without warning.

Peter jumped at the sound of his friends' voice. His thoughts had runaway with him; meanwhile Matt had halted his frenzied pacing and yelled out the name as a light bulb must have gone off in his head. He started processing the moment when Matt moved to resume his former motion.

"Matt…" Peter jumped off the wooden box he had be slouched on, "…what about Molly?"

Matt paused for just an instant and Peter grabbed him, forcing the dazed man to look him in the eye. A few seconds passed before the comatose expression on Matt's face vanished leaving him looking confused and angry.

"Matt…" Peter started.

"We _have_ to find Daphne!" Matt's tone was filled with absolute panic.

Peter eyed his friend carefully and knowingly as the pieces fell together. He patted the tired man's shoulder and nodded his head. It seemed to calm Matt for a moment because he at least allowed Peter to guide him to the same wooden box and sit him down. Peter stood over his friend, one hand still placed reassuringly on his shoulder and thought very carefully of how to proceed. Matt obviously had thought that Molly would be the best way to find Daphne, but he feared that was as far as Matt had gone with it. The deflated posture his friend remained in, head hung and sighing heavily, indicated to Peter that Matt was well aware of the difficulty waiting for them once they did find her. It hit him, what he had been thinking just before Matt's outburst, they needed help. Peter was sure that whatever they were going to do with the prisoners they certainly would not kill them…not right away. They had some time. He didn't know how much exactly, but it was a start. A plan began to form in Peter's mind as Matt regained his composure. Matt looked on Peter suspiciously as _he_ had now taken Matt's position pacing shortly across the room.

***

The tiny white generic soap popped out of Sylar's grasp landing with a slap on the 1970's era tile in his rooms' bathroom. His eye's rolled and he exhaled sharply before bending down to retrieve it. As he came level with the vanity he paused at his reflection in the mirror. With the counter covering the lower half of his face his eyes looked so foreign to him, like he hadn't really looked at himself in a long, long time. The first word to pop in his mind was his own name, Gabriel. Without the scowl he looked almost familiar. The moment passed and he continued scrubbing at the last of the stains on his shirt. He was starving, and had walked past a diner on his way to the motel. He had thought about stealing a car now, and just driving out of there. His father hadn't been at the house after all, and he was at a loss for what to do next. Agent Simmons had been no help in any way except that his mere presence meant that something else was going on, something that would surely be unfavorable if he decided to move on with collecting abilities.

_Not if, when…when._

When he had finished vigorously scouring away the blood he used the miniature blow dryer on the wall to help the process along. He made a note of the unexpected amenity for future contrasts. He tried to concentrate on how hungry he was, thinking about what might sound good at the diner, but more and more often he found it difficult to take his mind away from thoughts he didn't want to be having, thoughts of who he used to be. With an aggravated grunt he tossed the blow dryer in the sink after quickly turning it off. The shirt was still a little more than damp as he swung it back around his shoulders and slid his arm through the sleeve in one fluid movement. He paused and turned back to the ruined jacket draped on the back of the only chair in the room. He patted the pockets until he found what he was looking for. A generous amount of cash wiggled out of one of the inside pockets and he stuck it in his pants.

Alchemy was one of his more boring abilities, but it was one of the most useful if he needed money. Elle's image flashed unexpectedly in his mind making him wince. He caught hold of his imagination before it could escalate further and headed for the door. Compared to his room it felt like a sauna outside for a moment until he adjusted to the relatively beautiful day.

The walk was short and the very few people he saw didn't pay him any attention, but he still kept his head down as a precaution. He didn't really know what good it would do, he just felt a strange need to keep his eyes on his shoes. It was a recognizable feeling in fact. Not being noticed, trying to be ordinary when he felt like anything but...it was more than familiar, it had been his entire life.

Glancing up as a couple breezed past him he saw that he had arrived at the diner, the doors a few feet in front of him. He walked in and the smell of antiseptic spray and cherry pie floated around him. He looked around the place and caught the eye of a waitress who motioned for him to sit where ever he wanted. The place was pretty void of customers except for a family of five in the back corner booth and a handful of people at the counter. Sylar sat in a booth on the opposite end of the space, far away from the other patrons. The waitress made her way over to him and set down a menu, a placemat and some silverware.

"I'm Lauren. I'll give ya a second or two to look over the menu. Do you want coffee in the meantime?" The woman couldn't have been more than 25 but sounded 12.

"Just a water." He answered without looking up in the hopes that there weren't any specials she was required to rattle off to him.

She turned without another word and headed behind the counter. Sylar opened the menu and immediately began eliminating the stuff one should never order at a diner, mainly the seafood. Breakfast caught his eye, reading that it was served all day. It had been quiet inside except for the family of five whose youngest child insisted on poking his siblings with his fork. Sylar glanced up at the kids as the other two whined to their mother about the unfairness of their preferable treatment of the youngest of them. Of course their version more closely resembled a tantrum rather than Sylars' well considered interpretation.

The door opened into his field of vision as he watched the family and in sprang a woman looking very hurried and confused. She halted in a jerky movement and looked quickly around before his waitress told her to sit anywhere and she would be with her in a minute. The woman walked toward Sylars' end of the diner without hesitation. He caught her quickly glimpse back at the family as she moved in his direction. She shot a quick look at him and for some reason he felt himself jump a little as he looked away. She settled for a booth on the opposite wall with her back facing the door. He watched her for a moment out of the corner of his eye as she slowly placed her pursed beside her against the wall. She shoved her short brown her behind her ear as it swung in her face when she turned her head back around to the door. His eyes moved down, noticing her feet _just_ touched the floor made him smile a little. Just then Lauren the waitress returned with his glass of water.

"Know what ya want?" She squeaked.

"Ham and cheese omelet, home fries and bacon." He said slapping the menu closed before basically shoving it at her.

She took the menu with a raised eyebrow and roll of her eyes probably wondering why she always got the grouchy ones and how they never tipped. Lauren the waitress crossed the room to the nervous looking woman on the other side. She set Sylars' menu down in front of her and after a few seconds walked away. The woman didn't open the menu; instead she picked it up using it to prop her head up as she leaned her brow down on the top edge. Everything about her looked normal, nothing unusual about her clothing, she wasn't covered in blood or sweat…the only thing off about her was the look on her face when she walked in. She looked scared. Sylar thought about that for a moment and considered there could be an infinite number of reasons for a person to wear that expression nowadays. It had just struck him as off.

***

Olivia reached down and yanked out a pack of cigarettes squeezing the box nearly flat as she attempted to flip the lid open.

"You can't smoke in her honey." The waitress spoke making Olivia's ear's ring.

She set the menu down in front of her and asked if she wanted any coffee. Olivia shook her head managing to ask for an iced tea in the process. The waitress walked away while Olivia crammed the box back into her purse. She grasped the edges of the greasy plastic and wedged in against her forehead at a tolerable angle. The muscles in her neck relaxed the tiniest bit and she waited for the sensation to spread. To her dismay it didn't, and she tried forcing out the tension with a hard exhale. The only other thing she could do was let go, in other words, let the guard down and let that her brain relax. But that was at the top of the list of impossible things at the moment.

Earlier in the morning the number one spot on that list would have been filled with, "Government agents coming to my apartment for god knows what reason." Unfortunately that impossibility had become more of a reality than she wanted to admit to herself. She paid her taxes…most of the time…she had never been arrested, she wasn't involved in a drug ring…a reasonable explanation evaded her the entire car ride away from her apartment.

Her face remained hidden behind the menu as she could feel the people around her. The family made her a bit nervous, knowing how being around children sometimes affected her. Kids didn't hide their emotions, they didn't know any better. They felt what they felt and they let it out accordingly. It affected Olivia in a completely different way than adults. A childs emotions were raw and exposed, as opposed to an adults ability to suppress their feelings even to the point of complete denial. Those were the people she liked best, the ones that barely gave off a hint of emotion. They were of course unpleasant jagged people, the kind you don't want to talk to…but being in a room filled with them would have left Olivia with little more than a tremor of sensation.

The last thing she wanted now was to become overwhelmed and draw attention in a public setting. If anyone called the police for any reason…she shuttered to think about what would happen, what they wanted with her. An unexpected tingle began to radiate through her chest and she could feel some one watching her. She opened her eyes under the shadow of the menu and peered out of the darkness at the man sitting in a booth on the opposite wall against the windows. She had noticed him when she walked in and remembered that when she glanced at him he appeared to have looked away quickly, making her think he might have been watching her then too. It was barely noticeable, but he seemed to be watching her now out of the corner of his eye. A few seconds passed and he grew bolder, turning his head a little and looking at her almost directly. He looked out from under his lashes giving his eyes an intensity she couldn't quite place, as if he wasn't just watching her but studying her. She realized he didn't know she could see him, and saw no immediate reason to end the little game. His stare was broken a moment later when the soprano waitress brought him his food. After that he paid little attention to anything beside his plate while he ate what appeared to be breakfast.

Olivia was inwardly disheveled, confused and most of all worried. She had nowhere to go…except home and there was no way she could risk being found there. If they could come for her in New Jersey, then they could certainly follow her to her parents' house. She was at a complete loss. The only other option that had occurred to her was to keep driving and either sleep in the car or a motel when she could afford it. Right after scrambling down the fire escape she had booked it down the alley to the opposite side of the block and straight to the nearest ATM withdrawing her measly savings of $700. Combined with the cash she had in her purse it left her with a little over $850. Between gas, food, motel…she knew there would be no making it longer than a week or two if she was lucky. In reality, so far she had been lucky, ironically so, but lucky still. Sensing the Agents, thinking quickly enough to get out and not panicking…she had actually surprised herself a little bit.

As she considered her current situation the waitress made her way back over and Olivia came out from behind her greasy shield. The waitress glanced at the man eating his breakfast, not doing a very good job at hiding the sneer of contempt she was giving him.

"Do you want to order something to eat?" She asked setting down the iced tea.

"Um…fries." Olivia said softly before handing the menu back to the woman, sorry to lose her shield.

The waitress paused at the man's table to check on everything. He barely looked up as he speared his last bit of omelet and stuck it in his mouth while nodding his head once sending her to move off to take her place behind the counter. Olivia wanted to continue watching him but realized he would see her now. Her eyes moved down to the placemat bordered with ads for various local businesses. She began to swing her legs under the table and read the advertisements, just for something to do while she waited hungrily for her french fries. She heard the clink of metal against porcelain and noticed the man push his plate away before leaning back against the booth in a satisfied way. He glanced out the window, seeming to be looking for something. When he seemed to not find what he was looking for he turned his attention back to the interior of the diner and almost immediately in her direction. She looked down instantly and stilled her legs preparing to wait patiently for the waitress to return. She took a small sip of her tea not realizing how thirsty she was and sucked down another two straw fulls. It was very cold and her throat began to tingle from the chill. Then, just as before, the tingle began to spread. Down into her chest, through her shoulders and stomach and out her fingers and toes. Her head snapped up and she whipped around in the direction of the door. Both of her arms moved, one bracing on the back of the booth and the other grasping the edge of the table ready to fling her out of there in an instant. She knew the man would be watching her suspiciously now, not caring if she saw him or not because _she_ was the one acting out of the ordinary. The feeling intensified and again she felt her limbs want to become heavy and stick her to the floor. This time she struggled to fight through her immediate panic, letting far too many seconds pass since realizing they were coming. Slowly she moved her eyes away from the door following the wall of windows all the way down to the other end of the diner. Behind the family in the corner Olivia could see movement outside. It was already too late.

***

Riding in the back of a town car through the bumpy streets of New York City might have bothered a lot of people, but the rhythm of the movement was like taking a sleep aide for Angela Petrelli, especially lately. She didn't have enough worry to go around for both of her sons and found herself rather at wits end with both of them. But they were her sons after all, and she needed to protect them, both of them. She dozed off as the city buzzed around her protected environment. It would not, however, be a peaceful sleep.

Angela had no idea where she was. The space was enormous and empty, gridded off in a pattern of columns, a warehouse maybe. She walked forward, not afraid to know what might come out of the darkness. To her left voices erupted, two people talking at once. She turned and started toward the people. There were four of them in all, three men and a woman grouped by couples. The woman seemed rather short from where Angela was then. She had short brown hair that curled in disarray on top of her head. The man standing next to her looked familiar, too familiar. Nathan.

Angela stepped up her pace immediately, not wanting to miss any more of the conversation than she already had but as she got close enough to make out what was being said she was forced to stop dead in her tracks. The two men standing opposite Nathan and the woman…one of them was Peter, and the other was Gabriel. Angela scoffed at the slip.

_Not Gabriel, not anymore. You are Sylar. You always will be._

The last time Angela had seen Sylar was when Claire shoved a dagger of glass through the back of his skull. She had been assured that he was dead. Clearly he was not. The shock of seeing Sylar in her vision had awoken her, leaving the conversation lost to her. Nathan, Peter, Sylar, and a woman she had never seen before.

Angela closed her eyes turning her head toward the tinted window. When she opened them the world was happening around her, people moving through their lives oblivious to the layers beneath their ordinary existence. Angela had long ago forgotten what it was like to be normal, but she never forgot why normal people need people like Noah, and Bob, and herself to make decisions for the greater good. Nathan was protecting her, but Peter needed her help. Now she had a choice, a loyalty to give. Which son to give it to was the question.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own heroes :( But I do own Olivia :)

Sorry this took a bit of time. I hope you are all enjoying reading this because I'm definately enjoying writing it. Please let me know what you think, **REVIEW!!!**

Also, you may have noticed that I've left out the part of the stroyline with Rebel, sorry but I just can't fit it in.

Chapter 3

Things were finally beginning to come together. Perhaps not _exactly_ as he planned, but one of Nathans' most useful characteristics had always been his adaptability. The ball had _started_ rolling smoothly, until it came crashing down in a very literal sense. The plane crash disrupted Nathans' carefully designed itinerary and turned Danko _firmly _against Claire. If the cagey military man hadn't been resentful of her "free pass" before, now he must_ surely_ have loathed the very idea that any one of _them_ should receive any special treatment.

_Them._

Nathan repeated the word in his head several times as he sat behind the desk of his temporary office in building 26. The room was barren save for the desk with all the trimmings, a file cabinet and three chairs. The walls were just as gray as the concrete floor he was constantly tapping his foot against and the fluorescent lighting filled the space with a gloomy green tint. Mohinders' file sat open in front of him. He moved to close it with a triumphant snap before tossing it toward the left corner of the desk only to reveal a stack of similar folders underneath that required his attention. The names on the files were alien to him; William Serfass, Rebecca Stanley, Michael Faust, Olivia Tanner…All of them people with abilities, some of them dangerous, some harmless, and now every single one of them in possible danger from Dankos' men, effectively _Nathan's_ men. He wanted a better way, an easier way. The incident with Dankos' men and Miss Millbrook was an unacceptable occurrence, and on some level Nathan could understand completely Matt's immediate reaction to what happened. They were still people, and despite wanting to imprison them for the greater good he didn't want anyone hurt or killed because of this operation. Especially the innocent ones like his daughter.

He sat forward in his chair leaning his elbows on the desk preparing to open the first folder. Something at the bottom of the stack caught his eye so he focused his attention on it. One of the last folders was sticking sideways out of the pile, the name completely visible. Tina Tanner. He searched upward through the stack and near the top pulled out a folder marked Olivia Tanner. Nathans' eyebrows rose in curiosity as he grasped the bottom folder and shimmied it out of the pile. He held them both up in front of him, looking at the matching last names. Sitting back in his chair and propping his legs up on the desk he opened Tina's file.

_Tina Tanner DOB 3-19-1961 Ability – Empathy_

***

"I don't know about that…" Matt stated slowly, drawing out the phrase to emphasize his hesitation.

"Matt, think about it for a second ok. There are very few places we can go right now. We can't stay here much longer, they'll be looking for us and this place isn't exactly inconspicuous." Peter motioned around the loft.

Matt closed his eyes and shook his head after a second of deliberation. "Peter, if we split up…" Matt looked at his friend and the image of Daphne stumbling backward, oozing blood from bullet wounds flashed in his mind, reminding him of how powerless they all could end up being against this new threat.

Peter assumed the sentiment behind Matts' delay and began to think about Claire as he waited for Matt to continue. She had told him to go, so he had, leaving her to face the threat alone. He had left her _alone_. Mohinder and Tracy too, he'd left them all behind, because he had to.

"If we split up," Matt started again, "won't we just be making it that much easier for them to find us, to catch us? You know, divide and conquer?"

Peter thought for a second on how to placate Matts' well founded concerns abouthis plan. If they split up, then their current goals could be accomplished much quicker, and he doubted if Nathan would expect Matt and himself to go separate ways. Matt needed to find Molly and to do that he needed to see a social worker who had owed him a favor from his time as a badge in LA. Peter's job was a little more complicated.

"You know where you're going…or at least you will. As soon as you get a hold of the social worker it won't be long until you find Molly. If we're gonna have any chance getting at Daphne Matt, then we need help and I don't particularly know where to start looking yet. We don't have much time as it is. I'm sure Nathan has a step two planned out once he has enough of us rounded up. Splitting up is the only thing that makes sense right now." Peter paused and noticed Matt's expression change from one of frustration to one of knowing and consideration.

"We can't do it alone Matt, you know it." Peter sat down next to his friend, waiting for him to accept the reality of their dilemma.

A heavy sigh rushed out of Matt's lungs as he acknowledged the truth of what Peter had been saying. Finding Daphne was by far the easier part of the plan. Government Agents, Military Personnel…Nathan. Matt had never taken a genuine liking to Nathan, he doubted many people did and for obvious good reason, but Peter was one of the finest men he had ever known and he trusted him.

"Ok…ok, you're right, I know you're right. I just…I have to find her Peter, she's my future." His voice was soft at the end, almost like he was talking only to himself.

"I know Matt," Peter comforted, "I know."

***

As he was watching the woman Sylar found himself wondering about her. What was her name, where was she going, would she give him a ride…Just as he was about to question himself on that last thought he noticed a drastic change sweep over her. She whipped her head around, her eyes wildly searching through the windows at the opposite end of the diner. It should have dawned on him then. Wasn't until he followed her gaze, once she had found her target, and watched intently in the same direction, that he realized how dire his situation was about to become. Five, no, seven men dressed in black military uniforms dawning masks and guns stalked quietly through the parking lot right toward the doors.

_Damn it, that was fast._

He had maybe 10 seconds before the agents would come pouring into the small diner with hair triggers and a guarantee that their target would survive, granted they didn't catch him with a lucky shot in the back of the head, but even then...He thought of Arthur then and the look on his fake fathers' face as the bullet passed unhindered through his forehead. Sylar found that to be an awfully inappropriate way to die and would not stand for anything less than some sort of epic battle proving how powerful he had become, and _not_ against some one's lackeys. His adrenaline began to surge through his veins, his nostrils flared and eyes became cold and pitiless as he prepared to slaughter the worker bees so that he might make his escape. He didn't much like being hunted, and liked it even less when it steered him from his previously chosen, albeit currently reconsidered, path to find his father.

Olivia gripped the table like it was her lifeline, and yet couldn't will herself to move. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the man in the booth began to appear rather agitated himself, and was no longer looking at her but the same direction she gazed at in horror. There was no time to consider a reasonable explanation for his change in demeanor as the family in the back corner noticed the armed masked men lumbering past the windows. The mother grabbed her two closest children and hugged them protectively while the father made to move out of the booth as all three children became upset. The other patrons and staff remained dumbfounded as they too finally began to witness the cause of the commotion.

Even though she had been ready for it her heart skipped a beat when the agents rushed in, scanning the diner with raised weapons. They did not announce themselves as being affiliated with any local law enforcement, and when the two waitresses, the mother and her children started to scream three of the men began shouting for everyone to stay where they were. Olivia too began screaming…in her head for _any_ of her limbs to move, to at the very least _not_ sit there like a fish in a barrel, but nothing happened. Then, in a move so flawless it seemed surreal the man slid out of his booth and stood facing the agents. Trained to have almost instantaneous reflexes three of the agents whirled around to fix their aim on him. A jolt blasted through Olivias' chest resulting in not only the relaxation of all of her pertrified muscles, but an unexplainable sense of confidence. As the agents yelled for the man to get down on the ground he merely smirked at them and dropped his gaze to the floor. She could have sworn she saw him peek out the corner of his eye at her but it was so quick she couldn't be sure. When the panic didn't immediately return she considered bolting back around the corner toward the kitchen while their attention was occupied by the obviously crazy man. Yet she couldn't seem to take her eyes off of him as he stood there, motionless. Then in a blur he whipped his arm out in front of him and the agent closest to the door flew back hard into the top edge of a booth causing him to yell out in pain.

Sylar often enjoyed the sound of another's pain, but when the agent cried out he felt nothing, no tingle of satisfaction, nothing. This, more than anything else, incensed him and with his lip curled up into a snarl he telekinetically picked up the injured agent and catapulted him into the agent standing next to him. He was surprised that none of them had yet fired a single shot, but didn't let that fact distract him as he sent a few table chairs whistling through the air toward two agents positioned in back near the family.

Olivia couldn't believe her eyes. Almost without a pause the man had managed to put four agents on the ground…and he hadn't moved from where his feet were planted. She gazed at his outstretched arm in wonder. He had every agent left standing focused only on him and suddenly that voice in her head screamed loud enough to break her out of the fog of incredulity she had fallen into.

_RUN!_

Without a second thought she vigilantly pulled herself out of the booth and stood with her butt pushed against the edge of the table. Slowly she began to slink toward the kitchen door hoping that she would remain unnoticed, but she didn't.

"You! Stop where you are, get on the ground!" One of the only two agents on the front line barked at her.

Instantly Sylars' stare shot to his left and he tilted his head in a second of confusion. The agent who had yelled out at the woman had trained his aim on _her_ instead of _him_, just the opportunity he had been waiting for. With only four agents remaining to be dealt with and one of them distracted Sylar resumed his prior assault. Two agents were positioned in front of the counter and Sylar, using his ability, pulled the weapons out of their grasps and sent them skidding across the floor. The one in front of him took a step forward and lowered his eye to the sight on his gun preparing to squeeze the trigger.

Olivia had frozen in her tracks as soon as the muzzle of the gun was angled in her direction. Almost immediately however the man once again raised his arm and with a flick of his wrist left two agents thunderstruck as to the whereabouts of their weapons. Then she saw it. The agent directly in front of the man was prepared to fire.

"NO!" She yelled before she was able to stop herself.

At that all five men left standing turned to look at her. She was looking directly at the man with the dark eyebrows, and the interesting quirk. Realization appeared through his expression as he seized the opportunity to finish off the agents without interference.

Olivia suddenly became very aware of the soundtrack around her, the children crying, mother whimpering, waitresses blubbering, cook praying…every single one of them certainly wrought with fear, and yet she could sense very little of it. She was still filled with that overpowering sensation of confidence, and had never been more grateful to have _her_ little quirk. Agents flew through her field of vision, landing with a crunch, or a grunt on tables, under tables, wherever gravity carried them. Suddenly it was quiet. The crying stopped, all movement ceased. A sudden gust of air rushed out of her lungs as she had been completely unaware of holding her breath. She was nearly sitting on top of her table by the end of it, and had made no effort to remove herself from the spot. A look of awe was etched into her features which she continued to cast upon the strange man.

Sylar was fuming. Not one tiny drop of satisfaction had rained down on him. They were just bodies sailing through the air at his insistence…nothing gained. It was really nothing more than business as usual. They came, he flung them about, and he left. If this was all that really stood in his way anymore, since most everyone else seemed to think him deceased, then he was not impressed. The only mildly interesting part of the whole event had been the quite unexpected involvement of the woman. Not only did she apparently have the courage to try and make a run for it, but she had actually interjected in _his_ defense.

Finally after a moment of almost pure silence, pandemonium broke out among the bystanders. One by one they began screaming, or crying, or babbling in some way unable to process what just occurred. The father in the back stood over his terrified family trying to calm them, even though Olivia could now sense that he was just as terrified as anyone else in the place. With the agents gone only one person could be causing that emotion in them. The man, appearing unaffected by the hysteria taking over the tiny crowd, headed for the door, yanked it open and walked out as if he wasn't leaving behind a building half filled with unconscious military men. Olivias' heart sought to pound out of her chest and she couldn't decide just then whether it was because of all the feelings swarming around her, or if it was her remarkable craving to follow after him. The desire surprised her, but when thinking about it couldn't help but question why her attention had been drawn to him in the first place.

_He was staring at me…Oh my god! They weren't there for me…_

Had her eyes opened any wider her they might have popped out of their sockets. Without hesitation she bolted for the door. A quick glance around the parking lot and she spotted the man…at _her_ cars driver door. Immediate concern over lack of transportation caused her to yell out as she jogged toward the man.

"Hey! That's my car!" She stopped shortly as his eyes shot up to look at her.

Just as she started to take another step forward she caught movement to her right. Thinking it was surely an agent waiting to ambush her, and fully expecting to be tackled instantly she spun to her right and braced her arms up in front of her to fend off any attack to her throat or chest. A few seconds passed and nothing happened. Hesitantly Olivia cracked open one of her tightly shut eyelids and peered through the space between her forearms. A tiny spark of shock erupted in her, and she knew it wasn't her feeling. To her left the man trying to steal her car stood still as stone gaping at her in bewilderment before a dark cloud passed over his features and he resembled something more baleful. Olivia slowly pulled apart her barricade, but when she caught a glimpse of what was on the other side she jerked her arms apart and started in astonishment at a large barrel trash can stopped midair perhaps five feet from her. She gasped and dropped her arms, immediately the trash can clattered to the sidewalk and began to roll away. From behind her she heard two footsteps crunch through gravel. Not particularly wanting to turn around she looked over her shoulder at the man and did something she had never tried before, she actually searched for his emotions catching only surprise and annoyance.

Déjà vu surged through her as the faint shriek of sirens increased in the background. The frightening noise sent her into action. With purpose she turned and walked toward the man never taking her eyes off her car.

"I'm driving." She stated simply.


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own heroes :(

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Chapter 4

The door closed behind Mohinder with an angry click. He glanced back out through the small window where he could see the squared shoulder of the guard who had escorted him to the laboratory. Obviously he wouldn't be leaving this room unnoticed even though he would without a doubt be successful in overpowering his attendant. Although at this point any resistance he put up would be like biting the hand that feeds.

His second conversation with Nathan has started out much like the first one. Nathan reeked of self-importance, not again mentioning Mohinders' not to long forgotten foray into "bag and tag" so to speak, but still he stood with a posture of narcissism. Nathan began with reminding him instead of the feasible possibility that they would all end up dead. Mohinder was only half listening to Nathan while he continued to repeat himself. His attention was only grabbed when he finally heard something new out of that smooth talking mouth of his.

"I need a better way Mohinder."

Mohinder had looked up at Nathan taking in his deflated posture. The man looked a little tired, something he had not noticed before. Mohinder smiled in his mind at the thought that all of this was taking its toll on him as well; he after all earned every drop of discomfort. Admittedly his curiosity was peeked by Nathans' statement.

"What are you talking about, a better way? To do what? I thought you wanted me to work on eliminating…" Mohinder had begun to question.

"Miss Millbrook was an accident Mohinder, you know that. I don't want anybody hurt, but this is the United States Government we are talking about. We consider ourselves the most powerful country in the world for a reason." Nathan interjected.

"Are you serious!?! A country that would hunt, lock up, or kill its own innocent citizens is only to be considered powerful through means of fear and ruthlessness." Mohinders' chains rattled as he shook with outrage.

"Mohinder please…you know just as well as I do that a good deal of people with abilities are too powerful or dangerous to be left to their own devices. This government cares about its citizens, that's why we are doing this don't you see?" Nathan paused as Mohinder started to shake his head in disagreement. "Do I need to say anything more than the name Sylar?" Nathan questioned.

This stopped Mohinder. If there was one argument to be made for the confinement of people with abilities all one need say was _that_ name. Nathan was indeed clever, but not very original. Mohinder had already considered and accepted that Sylar was the worst of the worst, but even he was human and had he not committed any crime just the fact of having an ability was not enough to lock him up, even knowing what he was capable of becoming.

"You can't lock people up for something they might do Nathan. Doesn't that go against one of the key aspects of this government…" Mohinder began to protest.

"Not when it's for the good of the country and its citizens." Nathan sighed heavily. "This _is_ happening Mohinder, I already made that clear. You accept that fact and things will go a lot more smoothly for you. I need you, I need your brain…and I need your compassion and understanding for these people…"

"_These_ people!?! Nathan, _you_ are one of…" Mohinder scoffed.

"I am trying to help you here Mohinder! Help you so that you can help everyone else, just like you intended in the first place. Isn't that what you wanted from the beginning? I want to give you a real shot at doing that." Nathan interrupted before Mohinder could say more than he wanted him to.

Nathans' interjection gave Mohinder pause. He raised an eyebrow and cast his eyes down to those impeccable shoes before slowly bringing them back up to look the man right in the eye as he asked his next question.

"They don't know…do they?" Mohinder queried.

Nathans' features hardened as he attempted to conceal any surprise or anxiousness that might have made its way into his expression. "Do they know what?" He responded coolly with an enigmatic tilt of his head.

Mohinder shook his head and laughed, knowing he had his answer. Nathan waited patiently for his prisoner to focus, because what he had to say next would surely push him to a decision.

"Your _only _concern right now should be whether or not you're on board. Because when I walk out that door it _will_ be the last time you see me. Daphne needs your help, help her." Nathan stated with finality.

Mohinder had already made his decision the moment Nathan had walked through the door. His conscience couldn't take any more weight on it, so of course he would help Daphne even if it meant helping Nathan, at least for a little while. As soon as Mohinder had agreed his chains were removed and he was guided to a floor not unsimiliar to level five. He was shown into a spartan style room with a bathroom off the left corner. He took the hottest shower he possibly could, letting the water run over his aching muscles. It helped a bit, but did very little to untwist the expanding knot in his stomach. No matter what he did somebody wanted to use him, and he always tried to make the best of it. If he was going to have access to a full lab and equipment then perhaps there was a way he could bring Peter's intention of stopping Nathan to life from the inside.

In the lab he turned around to face a wide room filled with an array of machines, tables, computers, and off to the right half hidden behind curtains there was a row of beds, one of them clearly occupied. Mohinder wasted no time in making his way over to pull back the curtain. Daphne appeared to be sleeping soundly.

***

Peter marched quickly and quietly through the dark streets of New York City, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets and his head down. Matt would be a distance away by now headed in the opposite direction toward Albany. A social worker named Maggie Nedry lived and worked in the city there. Peter prayed that Matt wouldn't have too much trouble finding her while managing to avoid the government agents as well.

Since they had parted ways about an hour ago he had been moving at a good pace putting as much distance as he could between himself and the loft. The streets weren't very crowded as he made his way south toward SoHo, still not exactly sure what his first move was going to be. There was no way for him to know a person with an ability simply by looking at them. Suddenly he was beginning to feel regret over not swapping his flight for Matt's ability.

Peter knew there were lists out there containing the names of who knows how many special people. The company had kept records of every special person they had ever encountered, but the files would have been destroyed in the fire. Mohinders' father had compiled a list as well, but that one was long gone too. There was not one person he could contact on the inside for help. Nathan was the head of the operation, Noah was drawn into the whole mess as well…but his mother wasn't. She may be under the radar thanks to Nathan, but his mother played her hand close to her chest being sure never to reveal too much about what she was up to.

Peter gasped at his delayed realization. If anyone would have knowledge pertaining to the whereabouts of a list…or simply may have saved some files from the ashes…His mother might be his only hope of indentifying anyone who could possibly help him. Contacting her would be a hassle considering he tossed his phone days ago. And he knew damn well that she would not be easy to talk to about this. He knew Nathan was doing her a favor by keeping her hidden from his goons, but she had betrayed both of them in the past, so why not again. He would just have to head to the nearest pay phone and feed it the lint covered change in his pocket.

Fortune smiled on him as he rounded a corner to find a 7eleven equipped with a small collection of vandalized phone booths. Peter hurried over to them, dodging an oblivious man on a bicycle. He picked up the receiver of the first one in the row and no sound came from the speaker. He hung it back up and moved onto the next one, determined to hear a dial tone. When the familiar sound filled his ear he breathed a sigh of relief and without hesitation deposited his money and began dialing his mother's cell phone number.

"Hello Peter." His mothers' voice sang through the phone.

"Mom, I need to talk to you. I need information, can we meet?" Peter spoke with an edge to his tone.

"I'm sorry Peter that is impossible right now you know that." Angela replied politely, as if she were speaking to a stranger instead of her child.

Peter bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the frustration he knew would arise out of talking to her. He also knew beforehand that at this point it would be unlikely that she would agree to see him. That's why he opened with _that_ request, now he would offer a compromise.

"Look, all I need right now is a name, just one name Mom." Peter said.

Angela's' brow crinkled in disapproval. Her instincts had been right; Peter was actively seeking out help to go against Nathan. "A name Peter?" Se decided to play dumb for the moment.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Mother. Don't do that; don't play ignorant, not with me. I realize Nathan is protecting you, I know you have no choice but to take his help…but I'm only asking you for one name, just one, and then I'll leave you out of this." Peter waited patiently for a response.

The truth was that Angela didn't really _want_ to be left out of the loop. Sure Nathan was keeping her safe, but he wasn't at all forthcoming with information. He had gone behind her back, purposefully excluding her from his actions. She didn't need Nathan to tell her what was going on; she knew things that they could never know...invaluable things. But Peter…he was always the wild card, the emotionally driven one, always looking to right a wrong, or save a soul. She wondered now if he actually had it in him to save a soul, the most rotten soul she could think of.

Since her nap in the limo earlier in the day she had been thinking about Sylar and Peter standing aligned against Nathan and that woman. She would never understand Peters' continuing compassion for a monster like Sylar, but she supposed _that_ was one of the things that made her youngest son such a hero. She decided to give Peter the name of the person most unlikely to involve himself in a crusade of good.

"Sylar." Angela cleared her throat, like saying it had left a bad taste in her mouth.

At first Peter didn't know if he had heard her right so he repeated the name to her.

"Yes, that's what I said Peter. Sylar is in fact alive. I've seen him in one of my dreams. And though I am loathed to suggest it, I think he could help you." Angela replied with as little emotion as possible.

"Sylar is a murderer and a…" Peter began vehemently protesting.

"Sylar is perhaps the most powerful of us, now that Arthur is gone. You connected with him, he trusted you…as much as a man like him _can_ trust. You wanted a name Peter, that's the only name I can give you right now." Angela interrupted.

Peter thought hard, but quickly. There was no more time for bickering on the phone, and though he had a thousand questions about this new bit of information, he saw no choice but to follow the path his mother had pointed him toward.

"Where is he?" Peter asked coldly.

Angela closed her eyes with a slow blink, not knowing whether she was relieved, or something else.

"He was intent on finding his father when we were at Primatech. If he's had any luck, which I wouldn't doubt he has, he would have gone to Newark." Angela sipped her wine.

"New Jersey, great." Peter scoffed.

"Good bye Peter." Angela offered, but he had already hung up.

The conversation had done him little good, except to realize that he was more than on his own, he was lost. Matt needed his help to save Daphne, his mother was sending him on a mission to find and team up with Sylar, and all Peter wanted to do was stop Nathan and make sure no one else got hurt. He looked around him and decided to take a chance and hail a cab. The thought had occurred to him that Nathan could have sent some dummy cab to follow him around just waiting to pick him up as soon as he needed one, but he tried to ignore it as best he could. Surprisingly enough for the area and time of evening there were pretty many empty taxis roaming around and getting one didn't take long.

"Where to?" The cab driver asked.

***

Not a moment after Peter had ended their phone call Angela's phone again erupted in vibration as she brought her wine glass to her lips and took a sip. Soft classical music whispered through the elegant restaurant, the only other noises being a soft murmur of voices and the tap of silver against fine china. She placed the glass delicately on the table and reached for the cell phone. She peeked at the screen, instantaneously reading the caller id before answering.

"Yes?" She replied firmly.

"Mrs. Petrelli, this is your sons' assistant. I'm returning your phone call for the Senator. He would like me to confirm lunch tomorrow afternoon at the restaurant of your…" The girl sounded disappointingly incompetent.

"Tell Nathan that I would prefer it if he would visit me at my home, two o'clock." Angela didn't even wait for a response before angrily jabbing her perfectly manicured nail into the end button.

She had not anticipated Peter contacting her, at least not this soon. It had never crossed her mind to deny helping him, in her own way. Unfortunately she had placed herself in a bit of a trap seeing as how it had been her intention to warn Nathan that Sylar was still alive so that he wouldn't be blindsided by that fact in the future. Peters' request of her awoke the _extraordinary_ manipulation she still retained as an _ordinary_ talent, and she saw it as a sign to point Peter in the direction that her dream had shown her. Now all she needed was a new direction in which to take Nathan. She placed the phone in her bag and finished her dinner.

Shortly after arriving home Angela went to bed and fell soundly asleep in her comfortable king sized bed. As she began dreaming, it was merely a montage of memories from her sons' childhoods flashing through her mind. Family vacations, laughter in the backyard…but then the scenes began to change focus…Nathan distraught over his wife being paralyzed, the look on his face when she had told him that Peter and half of New York must die, Peter as he slammed her against a cell wall on level five and tried to take the top of her skull off. She stirred in bed, not quite awake but conscious enough to know she was dreaming.

Then the mood changed suddenly. Her head was no longer filled with blurred happy or heartbreaking images of the past, but instead a clear view from the back seat of a car. It was night time, and the roads were empty. In the front seat sat a woman, who was driving, and a man who seemed to have fallen asleep with his temple pressed against the window. The radio played very softly, a classic rock station from the sound of the screeching guitar. They seemed to be driving on a main road, but the amount of potholes the driver seemed unable to avoid made Angela wonder otherwise. A particularly large and deep one caused the vehicle to buck so hard that the mans' head bounced off the glass waking him instantly.

"What the hell was that?" He accused a bit groggy.

"Pothole. This _is_ Jersey." The woman replied matter of factly.

"What time is it?" The man questioned as he looked at his watch.

The woman peeked at him but didn't answer.

"Well?" He insisted.

"You just looked at your watch." She answered slowly.

The man appeared to sink into his seat, folding his arms across his chest. Angela looked out the window at the passenger side view mirror to see if she could catch a reflection. There wasn't an ounce of shock on her face; she would know those eyes anywhere.

"My watch is broken." He finally answered.

The woman turned to reach to her purse on the floor behind her seat. As soon as her face was visible in the poorly lit space Angelas' unflinching disposition rattled a bit. The woman driving was the same woman from her dream; she had been standing next to Nathan. This complicated things even more.

"10:45…"

Angela awoke suddenly. It took her a second to clear away the fuzz before turning to find the bedside clock. It read 10:27pm.


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own heroes!**

Ok, my original intention for this story was to pair Sylar with another character and have the story revolve around them. Since it's inception plans have changed a little bit, but it is still my intention that Sylar and Olivia be the central characters in the end. So this entire chapter is concerning them and only them.

Let me know what you think, **Review Please!**Enjoy!

Chapter 5

Sylar looked around finding himself in a slightly familiar room. He breathed in, the air stale and hazy and smelling like death. What he could only assume was a dining room table had become a catch-all; papers, tools, and stuffed mounted animals covered the table top even spilling over onto the chairs. He recognized it as Samson's house, his father. He spun around searching the floor for the body of Agent Simmons, but the room was void of anything besides tattered furniture, knick knacks and more mounted animals.

He closed his eyes tight, recalling his most recent memory. He remembered driving down a highway with the woman, Olivia, at the wheel putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the diner. The last image he could conjure was the blurry trees and bushes as he whipped passed them in her car with his head leaning against the window and eyelids getting heavy.

"It's a dream." He said out loud to the empty house.

With that fact firmly in place he relaxed some and decided to explore. His attention was immediately drawn to a door at the far end of the living room, but he was unsure whether or not the door had actually existed in his father's house, or if he was just making it up. Either way Sylar found himself intrigued by the anomaly and straight away began walking toward it. Without a moments hesitation he grasped the knob and pulled the door open.

Once on the other side he was no longer in his father's house in Newark, but instead inside Gabriel's' apartment, _his_ apartment in Queens. A mist of nostalgia saturated his thoughts as he gazed thoughtfully at his lost possessions, especially his library of books. Then, with some effort, he was able to push it away not wanting the emotion to cloud his mind. Unfortunately that feeling was replaced by something more disconcerting, loneliness.

"Why am I here?" He sighed a bit sadly.

As if on cue a voice pierced the silence from behind him. He jerked his head around hard enough to have possibly strained his neck, hoping he wouldn't wake up with the pain, and stared at the small figure standing in the open door way between his apartment and his father's house.

"Come on, admit it. This really is the only place you felt comfortable in, that and the shop. Here…alone with your books where no one could hurt you…where no one could look down on you…" Elle antagonized with success.

"Shut up." Sylar tried to growl but instead sounded more like he was mumbling.

"Even when you were all, _I deserve better because I am better_, I bet you still thought about what it would be like to have the opportunity to come back here again and start all ov…"

"Shut UP!" Sylar yelled.

He stared around her into his father's living room where his buildings hallways should have been.

"Oh, but that's right," she continued taunting without fear of repercussions, "people don't look down on _you_, not anymore. No, now they just run screaming…that is if you give them the chance to run…unlike me…"

"You're not Elle!" He snapped.

She laughed, seemingly in agreement. "No, I guess I'm not. I suppose I'm more of…your memory of Elle."

"Don't want any memories of you, don't want _you_ at all." He said forcefully. "Why do you think I killed you?" He finished with a wicked grin.

"Oh I know why you killed me," Elle skirted around Sylar to fully enter his apartment, "the question is do _you _know why you killed me?" She was not fazed at all by his attempt to be menacing and in fact appeared rather nonchalant about discussing her death.

Though, he supposed since it was _his_ dream that all of this was his doing anyway so why_ would_ she be bothered by it if he wasn't. Sylar gawked at her back in disbelief as she scanned the titles that made up his marginally impressive library.

"Gee Elle," he began sarcastically, "you're right. How would_ I_ know why I killed you, why don't you enlighten me since you seem to know everything."

Elle was grinning ear to ear as she slowly turned to face him.

"I'm so glad you asked, _Gabriel_." She knew just where to poke him to agitate his diminishing sense of self.

"Elle…" Now he growled at her.

"Hey, don't get mad at me," she threw her hands up in mock surrender, "I'm not even _me_ remember. I'm you…I guess…so maybe you should be angry with yourself."

"I'm done listening to you babble." Sylar turned to walk out only to find the door missing.

Elle giggled behind him. "Apparently you're _not _done." She gloated.

Just as she had finished giggling Sylar felt a sudden sharp pain in his forehead.

***

Olivia glanced down at the gas gauge of her '94 Accord watching the needle bounce precariously between an eight of a tank and the giant contemptuous "E" on the left. She had been driving for about three hours in no specific direction without any idea where she intended to end up. Eventually she wandered into a bit of farm country and continued to follow the empty roads around fields and through the infrequent patches of woods.

Her passenger had fallen asleep about a quarter tank ago. Neither one of them had said anything of substance, except to quickly exchange names during the hour he had been awake as they sped hurriedly away from the diner. The silence was actually rather nice for Olivia. She didn't even feel an uncomfortable itch to fill the quiet with forced small talk; in fact she decided it felt rather effortless sitting next to him in her car. That was more than she could say about anyone she'd had contact with in the last year. Of course the ever present buzz of emotion continued to churn around her, but she didn't find it offensive or invasive in any way. She thought back to the parking lot outside of the diner and how it had essentially surprised her how easy pulling in his emotions had been, so she was taking advantage of the current opportunity to practice.

He felt out of the ordinary to her, of course, nothing at all like the emotionless robots she fantasized about being surrounded by. Nor did he resemble the atmosphere her friends and family formed around her when this had all started. Instead he exuded calmness, with an underlying quiver of fear and uncertainty. It surprised her to find that he was afraid of _anything_ considering the show he had put on in the diner. She knew now that the rush of confidence that had liberated her from her inanimate state had come from him. The emotion hadn't been a mere ripple of movement against her bubble; it stabbed right through and exploded into her. It had taken her half a second to recover after it began to spread to every thought, every cell, igniting her entire mind with a tremendous burst of clarity. The whole five second long experience had been rather like a drug than an intrusion. Though the sensation had been agreeable, she was a bit wary to dive head long into exploring something she knew very little about.

The radio had been playing at a medium volume for a while now, and the station started to replay their song set from earlier in the evening so she moved to turn it down to a barely audible volume over the noise of the engine. The last car to pass by was perhaps 15 minutes ago, and she was beginning to wonder if she should turn around and head back to a gas station as she drove farther down the road. The blacktop was littered with crater sized potholes that had yet to be filled, left by the bothersome Jersey winters. In the dark it was really a crap shoot figuring out where they all were and in an effort to avoid one she went straight into another rocking the car an unanticipated amount. Immediately her passenger woke shaking his head after it had audibly bounced off the glass of the window.

"What the hell was that?" He accused a bit groggy.

"Pothole. Sorry, this _is_ Jersey." Olivia replied matter of factly.

"What time is it?" Sylar questioned as he lifted his wrist to look at his watch.

Olivia peeked over at him but didn't answer.

"Well?" He insisted.

"You just looked at your watch." She answered slowly, confusion peppering her tone.

He sank into his seat and crossed his arms as he looked through the window up at the sky finding the Orion constellation right away. He thought about the dream he had been having, and how it had ended abruptly just as Elle was about to tell him why he killed her. "My watch is broken." He finally responded.

Olivia's eyebrows pulled together perplexed, but she moved to pull her cell phone out of her purse. "It's 10:45. Why do you wear a broken watch?" She questioned innocently.

Sylar looked down at his wrist again, twisting it so that the cracked face would reflect what little moonlight there was. "I don't know…" He sounded miles away.

Olivia could feel the soft spark of contemplation that now took him over. "Well the car is low on gas…" she changed the subject sensing it was not something he wanted to elaborate on, "so I was thinking about turning around, heading to a town we went through about a half hour ago."

"Ok." He responded.

"Ok…" Olivia agreed.

She continued on down the road until coming upon an area where the shoulder became wide enough to swing a u-turn. Sylar rolled his window down about halfway letting the chilly wind rush into his ears and blow the hair out of his eyes. He was hoping that the sound of the wind would drown out any chatter that might come out of her mouth now that he was awake. A minute passed, and then two and she hadn't said another word. Most people felt a need to fill the silence anytime one settled, she apparently didn't, a detail he was taken aback by. A question suddenly emerged into the forefront of his thoughts, and he felt compelled to ask it.

"Why didn't you use your ability inside the diner?" He almost accused rather than questioned.

Olivia jumped a tiny bit at the unexpected sound of his voice. She had been so focused on the road and the gas gauge that she had almost forgotten that he was awake. His question puzzled her, and she wasn't quite sure how to answer it.

"I…uh…what do you mean _my ability_?" She stuttered out.

Sylar rolled his eyes realizing he had encountered some one who knew _nothing_ about having abilities and what it meant. Almost instantly he felt that nostalgia again for the time when he had been in her position, oblivious and sane. He remembered wishing he'd had some one other than Dr. Suresh to explain to him what it all really meant, explain to him what he could become.

"You have an ability, like me. Something special that you can do…" Sylar felt reverence for her innocence on the subject.

"How did you know I could do something?!" She answered her tone a combination of alarm and embarrassment.

Olivia gripped the steering wheel tight enough to turn her knuckles a ghastly shade of white as her heart started to pound out of her chest. She was panicking. She had never told anyone about what she experienced, and now a man who could throw people about with a twitch of his pinky finger was telling her something she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Sylar looked at her bemused. "I saw you, outside. That was my point, why didn't you use your ability _in_ the diner?"

The apprehension began to loosen its grip on her as she attempted to figure out what exactly he was asking her. "What good would what I can do have done inside the diner? I can't really _do_ anything."

"Are you being dense on purpose or is it a learning disability you've been afflicted with?" Sylar threw out the sarcastic insult before he had thought it through, and ended up regretting it a bit when she didn't answer right away.

Olivia put her head down trying to ignore the urge to either start screaming or crying. Since the late afternoon when she had run from her apartment her stress level had been building to epic proportion.

"I'm sorry, I don't…" Olivia had settled for suffering in silence.

"You have telekinesis." Sylar said plainly.

He watched her head tilt to the right and her eyebrows pull together. Then she did something he didn't expect, she shook her head no.

"I know what telekinesis is, and I don't have that." She stated simply, quite sure of herself.

Sylar forced out lungs full of air through his nose to emphasize his frustration. Little did he know Olivia didn't need such an obvious indication.

"I don't like small talk…" he began tensely, "but it's important for you to understand your ability. I'm going to say this as plainly as possible for you. You have telekinesis. You stopped the trash I threw at you in midair outside of the diner…"

"Wait! _You_ threw the trash can at me. I thought _you_ stopped it!" She couldn't help but be a little displeased.

Ordinarily Sylar would have smirked, or chuckled at her ignorance. Instead he felt something resembling guilt at her discovering he had tried to hurt her rather than believing he had tried to help her.

A silence fell between them as they both pondered their separate situations. Olivia was overwhelmed to the point of exhaustion, and Sylar…he wasn't sure what he was doing exactly. Neither one of them knew what to say next, so Olivia decided to stay on topic and question him more about having an ability.

"You said I have telekinesis." she paused waiting to see if he would ignore her or continue the conversation.

"Yes." He replied.

"Well…I didn't know." She countered.

Sylar thought for a second, not sure he understood what was going on. "But you do have an ability?"

"Yes, but it isn't telekinesis…or at least it never was before. I've never done that, stopped something midair…or moved something with my mind." Olivia was a little hesitant talking about what she had or had not done, but if she had to, then who better than some one in a similar situation.

On instinct Sylar sat up a little straighter, listened a little more closely to what she was going to say. Before when he thought she possessed an ability he didn't need she was of no further interest to him than giving him a ride. Now, learning that she wasn't what he thought she was changed his opinion on her level of usefulness. He waited for the insatiable hunger to swell up inside of him, engulf his mind with greed and fascination.

"Then what is it that you do?" He asked in a more friendly tone.

"Well I guess if all of this is real, and I do have an ability as you called it, then I would have to say that I have empathy; I feel other people's feelings." Olivia spoke before she realized her lips were moving and immediately felt awkwardness at having shared something she had never shared before.

Sylar noticed the reddening of her neck and chest right away, and it stopped him outright. Obviously she had known about her ability for some time and kept it secret or the subject wouldn't have been such a shame for her to talk about. If she was so reluctant to talk about it, he had to consider why she was choosing to tell _him_ of all people…then he remembered she had no idea who _he_ was.

He considered her offered up information remembering that Peter had a form of empathy. Though, his original ability would have been categorized as empathic mimicry rather than just plain empathy. He used to be able to absorb powers from any special person he encountered, and recall them for use just by remembering the way that person made him feel. Olivia's ability would actually absorb emotion, making her feel them as her own.

Then he began thinking out loud, "That doesn't make any sense. If your only ability is empathy, then how did you stop the trash can, unless…you absorbed it." He finished off by slowly turning his head toward her and staring.

A lot of things ran through his mind, but one of them wasn't that he wanted to kill her. He had never wanted Peter's ability because that would just take the fun out of it. His main concern at the moment was that if he was right, she didn't just have telekinesis, she had every ability he had, plus one.

"Pull over." He said quietly.

"What?" Olivia said promptly.

"Pull over…here, right here." Sylar motioned through the windshield at a small flat clearing on the edge of the road.

Olivia did as he asked her to, not even considering what a bad idea it was to be alone with a strange man in the middle of nowhere at night. The car slowed to a smooth stop and Sylar nearly jumped out running around the front to her side. He yanked the door open, unbuckled her seatbelt without a word and pulled her out of the car. The only protest she had managed was a surprised _hey_ as he had leaned across her to unfasten the seat belt. He walked her toward the tree line not far from the vehicle and stood next to her once he let go of her arm. Sylar said nothing at first even though he was breathing a little heavy and continued staring at her in a strange way.

"What are we do…" Olivia began to ask.

"I want you to shoot electricity at those trees." He pointed into the distance indicating a small detached group of saplings.

Olivia's' jaw dropped and she threw her hands up at his request. "Ok, now you've definitely lost me. I don't know anything about electricity other than…you know…the obvious." She finished awkwardly.

"Like this." Sylar turned, bent his elbow bringing his hand to his shoulder and then snapped it straight, extending his fingers out as blue sparks turned into a current that extended all the way to the saplings, breaking one of them in half.

He watched her as he finished, waiting for her to mimic his actions. But Olivia was much too nervous to make an immediate attempt. She had become so uncomfortable that she wasn't letting herself relax at all, keeping that bubble firmly in place.

"I don't think I can do that." She forced a reply.

His stare bore into her though his blank expression did not change. She was almost tempted to open up a bit and find out what he was feeling, but the prospect of using her ability right now made her heart skip a beat.

"Just do it." Sylar urged.

Hesitant as ever Olivia faced the trees, mimicked Sylars' motions and nothing happened.

"Try, um, try twisting your arm a little at the end." Sylar suggested, confused by the anticlimactic display.

She obeyed, giving it a bit of English as Elle had called it. Again nothing happened.

"I don't understand." Sylar mumbled to himself. "You don't make any sense."

"_I _don't make sense? Can we possibly get back in the car? I left it running and we are pretty low on gas." Olivia said innocently as to not invoke an unfavorable response.

Sylar stayed motionless deep in thought. He knew what he had seen; she stopped the trash can cold and could not have done that any other way than using telekinesis. Olivia had already started back toward the car when a thought popped into his head causing him to yell out.

"Wait! Does anyone else you know have an ability, say empathy?" He asked, sure he would get the answer he expected.

Olivia stopped, looking at him as if he had just turned a fluorescent shade of purple. "Until earlier today I didn't even know there _were_ people like us in the world, and until five minutes ago I didn't know what I can do could be categorized as having _anything_. If anyone I ever knew could do anything like what I just saw you do, I didn't know about it."

"What I just did wasn't empathy, it was electrokinesis. Empathy is a passive ability. You wouldn't have known some one had it unless they told you." He realized the absurdity of his question considering her earlier display of ignorance concerning the existence of abilities.

Olivia was at a loss for what to say. She looked up at the sky yearning for the blackness of space to engulf her and put an end to this unmanageable situation. The day had finally caught up with her, slicing away at what little confidence and sense of security she had started with.

Sylar observed her declining mood and was not quite sure how to respond to it. He had no practice at this, for good reason…he didn't _want_ to deal with things like this.

_Emotions make people weak; and I end up _her.

"I think that they best thing to do right now would be to get back in the car, and head to the gas station…like you suggested." Sylar found himself not the least bit ill at ease placating her with the credit for the proposal. He was being…nice…and he didn't exactly understand why at the moment.

Olivia finally looked down, turned and walked to the passenger side of the car essentially falling into the seat before quietly closing the door.

He sighed and started for the car, pausing with his fingers barely brushing against the door handle. He didn't know what he was doing; he didn't know what he _wanted_ to do. What he _did _know was that he wasn't thrilled by the prospect of finding his father at the moment…he hadn't been overly interested in anything lately…until this happened.

"Here is how this is going to happen." He started as soon as he closed the door. "I'm going to explain as much about this as I can. No questions, no interruptions, just listening…ok?"

The tiniest flicker of curiosity appeared on her face, answering his question with a simple nod in keeping with the spirit of his requirements.

"Ok…" he began.

***

As soon as Olivia's head hit the pillow she fell asleep. Sylar sat in one of the chairs the motel had been so kind to place in the meager rooms. He had to admit that this _was_ one of the nicer motels he had stayed at in terms of cleanliness, but no hairdryer in the bathroom.

During the half hour it had taken them to drive back to the gas station Sylar had recounted almost all the knowledge he had concerning abilities, people who had abilities, what they could do…even some of the events that had taken place under the noses of the general public. She had listened intently, never once breaking the rule of no interruptions.

He peeked out between the curtains of the large window near the door to quickly scan the immediate area for anything out of the ordinary. To his left Olivia half grunted in her sleep making Sylar whip his head around to look at her. She didn't appear to be sleeping soundly…he knew a little something about that. After a few seconds she twitched and rolled over facing him. Her face was contorted in a mask of apprehension. She moaned loudly and jerked her arm, then again, and again until the jerk became a wild swinging and she was yelling instead of moaning.

"Olivia, wake the hell up!" He yelled as caught one of her wrists in mid swing.

She woke up suddenly, utterly confused about where she was and who was holding onto her arm. Then, like a new nightmare, she remembered everything that was happening, but as soon as she realized it was Sylar in the room with her she was able to calm down.

"You were having a nightmare." He said as he released her wrist and moved back to his chair near the window.

Olivia sat up and noticing she hadn't removed her shoes she kicked them off onto the floor. "I'm sorry…" She said rubbing her eyes. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping. One of us should stay awake; keep watch, just in case. Besides, I slept in the car earlier." He absolved her of any guilt.

Olivia fiddled with the pillow, pulling at the stray thread on the corner. He had told her _so_ much in the car, and she had come up with an unthinkable number of questions she _so_ badly wanted to ask. It was still all sinking in, mind reading, super speed, super strength, healing, time travel…then there were the men who were after them _both_ apparently. All in all the amount of information she had to process was off-putting, but she still couldn't help but want to know more.

"So…you don't like small talk…right?" She chanced.

Sylar rolled his eyes under their lids knowing this would be coming at some point. "Not really."

"But, what if I had legitimate questions about everything you told me. Well maybe not everything…" she started.

"Then about what?" Sylar insisted.

"About these abilities, about what I can do…about you. Is that considered small talk?" She questioned.

Sylar said nothing and she wondered if he was leaning more one way than the other, either to entertain her questions or deny answering them. She had no choice in his decision, but had no other option than to try.

"I followed the rules, in the car I mean. Didn't interrupt you once and I was hoping…I just want to try and understand." She wasn't very convincing, rather timid in her attempt at persuasion in fact.

He continued to look out the crack in the curtains when he gave an answer that did not altogether surprise him, "Go ahead."

"So you think I have the same ability your friend Pete…"

"Peter and I _were_…_are_ not friends." Sylar misspoke, remembering a time when they indeed thought they were more than friends, they thought they were brothers.

"Sorry." Olivia apologized instantly before continuing. "So you think that I have the same ability as this guy Peter had?"

"Empathic mimicry, yes." He confirmed.

"Well how does that work with me, I mean you said _he_ could absorb any ability he came in contact with so why don't _I_ have that electricity thing you did?" She asked.

"Electrokinesis and I don't now. Maybe your ability works differently than his did." He replied trying to sound uninterested to hide that fact that he was enjoying the opportunity to talk about abilities.

"Does that happen a lot? Or is that even possible?" She questioned.

Sylar looked away from the window almost stunned that she would ask such a question anymore. "I've come to believe almost anything is possible anymore."

"Ok so, say I _do _have that and I absorbed your telekinesis because of it. That means I absorbed the empathy also, right?" She seemed honestly drawn into the details of all of this, a reaction Sylar could relate to.

"Right." He answered simply.

"But there's no way to know who from?" She posed.

"Not without knowing _how _your ability works." Sylar admitted.

Olivia turned now so that her legs dangled off the edge of the bed and again Sylar noticed how her toes barely touched the floor. Her hair was also in a violent tangle atop her head but she seemed to care very little at the moment. He could tell she was concentrating on what questions to ask and he found himself hoping it wasn't because she didn't want to bother him longer than she needed to; strangely he didn't _want_ her to feel like she was bothering him.

"If you knew when you had acquired the ability that would certainly narrow it down." He prompted, but kept his apathetic tone.

Olivia didn't need to think back, the emergence of her empathy had not been easily ignored. "It was over a year ago when I still lived with my parents."

"Somebody you were close to at that time." Sylar suggested.

"I wasn't close to a lot of people, just my family and a few friends." Olivia answered absently.

"Then one of _them_." He pointed out, a little annoyed.

His words took her out of the spaced out hole she had been falling into sending her instead into a highly disconcerting fit. "Not possible, I would have known, they would have told me!"

"Like you told _them_ I'm sure." Sylar was amused by her outburst pleased to see she was still alive in there. He knew antagonizing her might set her off further but was wholly engrossed in her reaction.

"It's not the same thing!" She sucked in a quick breath, holding it while feeling her usual emotional self control stop the eruption. She stared at him and blinked away the defensiveness before continuing. "You don't know me so you couldn't understand."

He half smiled into his lap and puffed out a breath. "Believe me; I understand things other people don't."

To say she was captivated by the cryptic meaning of what he said was an understatement. Though, she _was_ still angry enough at the implication that someone she was close to had been lying to her that she spoke without thinking to hold back. "I don't share ok. I'm not the one others are there for; I'm the one that's there for them. They lean on me and I hold them up on their feet. I don't let people in _so_ for me not to tell them is not the same as if one of them hadn't told me."

"You seem pretty angry about this." Sylar added sincerely curious as to the cause.

"Well I am! It's just not…" Olivia's surprise at what an ease it was talking to him stopped her mid sentence. She questioned herself because she simply wasn't used to unloading on some one else.

"What?" He pressed sitting forward in his chair, hands clasped between his knees elbows pressing into his thighs.

"Nothing, sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away." She apologized without embarrassment. "We were talking about how empathic mimicry, did I say that right?"

"Yeah." He answered lightly.

"Ok…how it might work for me." She paused sitting crossed legged on the bed now facing him waiting for him to have some sort of unprompted insight.

"Well," he began as he realized how occupied by the conversation he was becoming and wondered whether or not he wanted to continue, but his mouth answered for him as he continued speaking, "at the diner did you experience anything more unusual than…usual?"

"I was frozen, couldn't move…just totally panicked. Then I got this rush of confidence after you stood up right before you started _doing your thing_. It came from you, I _know_ it did. It just got through the bubble…" she explained.

"The bubble?" Sylar interrupted.

Olivia smiled at herself. "That's what I call it. I guess I've kina learned to push back at all the emotions that are coming at me, not let them in."

"Everyone can turn off their ability." He said dismissively.

"Well…I guess I can't because even pushing back at them I can still sense them around me. It used to be overwhelming having everyone else's emotions inside, not being able to differentiate between theirs and my own…Eventually I had a little break down," she admitted sheepishly, "not like being put in the hospital break down or anything…I just needed something to give way, so I pushed them out and they stayed out."

Sylar was definitely immersed. Learning about other abilities was always a treat to him. "So there are times when you, what, let things through the bubble?"

Olivia thought on that for a second. "I wouldn't say I _let_ them through, they just kind of get through. Most of the time it happens when some one is _really _upset or _really _happy…or really confident, like you at the diner…you get the picture."

"You said, most of the time." He was curious.

"Well outside the diner, after _you_ threw the trash can at me," she shot him a sarcastic icy glare, "I purposefully, I don't know what you would call it, searched for what you were feeling and let it in." She finished with a shrug.

Sylar had heard her, but was preoccupied with what she had said before. She didn't _let _them in; the emotions had to be strongly felt by the other person for them to penetrate her _bubble_ as she called it. It was _almost_ like Peter…

"That's it then isn't it." He said out loud without realizing.

Olivia tilted her head. "What's_ it_?"

"Oh, your ability does work like Peter's…or at least it would if you hadn't developed the defense mechanism to keep the empathy under control." He continued when her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "Keeping out the emotions also keeps you from absorbing abilities since empathic mimicry works partially off emotion. It's fascinating really. With enough practice you could pick and choose which abilities you absorb and which ones you don't."

Olivia considered this and decided she wasn't particularly thrilled. "Great, that's actually a little scary. I wasn't exactly doing that great with just the empathy, now I have telekinesis and if I'm not careful I'll have that electrokinesis thing too."

"Now that you know…" Sylar started.

"Yeah, I know…still would like to know where I got the stupid empathy from." Olivia sulked a bit.

"Don't do that, your ability is useful…you just don't know how to use it." Sylar shot back defensively. "You are the only person I've come across with empathy; it must be a rare ability so you should respect it and learn how to use it." He wasn't quite sure why he wanted to reassure her, but he did so he went with it.

"You meet a lot of people with abilities then?" She asked interested.

Immediately he could feel his open posture contract while the iron curtain came down to cut off the ease of talking with her he had been experiencing. "It's late," he deflected, "let's save the rest of the Q and A for another time." Without pause he turned his attention back to the window.

Olivia was a bit troubled by the abrupt end to the conversation. She was a little disappointed because she was truly enjoying talking to him, even about this. She was definitely too exhausted to sit up and think about the days events any further so she lay down on her back and stretched out with a satisfied sigh before falling asleep. That night Olivia continually dreamt about her mother, Tina.


	6. Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

Matt woke up when the man in the seat next to him rose up and removed his bag from the overhead compartment. The bus made it to Albany before dawn and the prospect of hanging out in the waiting room of a government run institution like child services was beginning to look less and less appealing the more he thought about it. He had no idea how they were tracking them so wasn't sure what was safe and what wasn't. He figured on having to use his ability to get in to see her without being suspicious, after all he looked a little bit like he'd been through hell. In the last week he had acquired precognition, been abducted by the government, survived a plain crash, watched the woman he loved get shot, kidnapped Noah and been rescued by Peter. To say that the sky was falling would have been a gross understatement.

Peter was right though, they didn't have a choice anymore. If Nathan was going to head an initiative to imprison innocent people, they needed to fight back. The big picture had started to become clear to him while the bus rumbled out of the city toward Albany. Molly would not only be able to find Daphne, but anyone they could think of with an ability which meant that eventually they could figure out where Nathan was planning on housing everyone. The big picture had started to make his head hurt so he had closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep which proved to be not that much better of an idea. All he dreamt about were the many ways he should have kept Daphne from getting hurt, he _had_ _drawn_ it after all. What good were these abilities if he didn't use them to save the people he loved?

Matt knew just where he was going although the offices wouldn't be open for another few hours. He was starving and couldn't ignore the pain of it anymore so once in the area of the building that housed the child services office he found a little diner and settled in. After enough pancakes and coffee to put him in a coma the traffic outside finally started to pick up, signaling morning rush hour had begun.

Convincing Maggie to tell him where Molly was wouldn't be hard, he knew that. In fact it was the only comforting part about this plan. Maggie had been a social worker in LA when Matt was a police officer there. They hadn't had occasion to meet until Matt arrested one of Maggie's "kids" for vandalism. The kid was in foster care and had apparently run away a few days before so when his file came up on the computer the contact name was listed a Maggie Nedry, his social worker. Maggie showed up at the precinct at 3am to pick the kid up. Matt had seen it a hundred times, foster care kids destined to become adult criminals because the system was eternally flawed. They all had this far off look in their eyes, like they weren't really there because if they were…It wasn't their fault, but Matt suspected the same future for Maggie's kid too. But when she got there that kid _actually_ smiled. She seriously scolded him as he sat cuffed to the chair next to Matt's desk, but when Matt peeked over at the kid he was smiling a little bit as he stared into his lap. Not a smart ass smile, but the smile of a kid who was glad somebody cared. Over the next few months Matt and Maggie ran into each other on regular occasion and anytime he collared one of Maggie's kids she was his first phone call. Watching her with those kids, seeing that they gave her their trust when they didn't trust anybody, gave him hope knowing at least somebody cared about them. So when she told Matt that she was transferring to New York he was sad to see her go, knowing that LA had lost maybe its best social worker.

When Matt needed to put Molly somewhere safer and more stable than what he could offer her at the moment, Maggie was the _only_ person he thought of. It had occurred to him how lucky it was that she had transferred to New York back then, because if she hadn't things would not have gone so smoothly now. Maggie didn't ask too many questions, and felt that she had the perfect family to place Molly with. Of course Matt insisted on reading their psychological profile before agreeing to anything. His only request from her was that he have no idea where Molly was placed. He knew all too well how dangerous knowing, or having too much can be.

He remembered thinking, as the plane plunged toward the ground, how utterly thankful he was that he had given Molly up, because it had killed him to do so. Knowing he had made the right choice had given him peace in the moments before he thought he was about to die.

The lobby of the government building was filled with a thick slice of the human experience; people in suits with brief cases, mother's with crying children, mother's not paying attention to their children, police officers, blue collar workers, even a homeless man begging for change in the corner near the door. In an effort to avoid as much contact with people as possible he made his way over to the board listing which offices were on which floors. He found what he was looking for after a bit of searching and took the stairs since he was only heading to the third floor. Something about being tucked into an elevator with strangers shoulder to shoulder didn't appeal to him at all just then. He put on a pleasant smile as he exited the stairway into the social services hallway thinking that this was going to be easier than he thought. He looked to this left and headed toward the door just as a woman had exited and started down the hall in his direction.

"Maggie?" Matt halted mid stride looking closely at the woman whose attention was rapt on the file in her hands.

Immediately the woman looked up, her face illuminating with a welcoming smile. "Matt! It's _so_ good to see you." She pulled him into a friendly hug.

"You too Maggie. How are you?" Matt pulled back and took in the fact that the pretty 28 year old woman appeared to have aged about five years since he had seen her last.

"You know, never ends." She chuckled sardonically with a smile. The smile faded quickly however replaced with a quizzical expression. "You didn't come here to ask me how I'm doing…Molly?" She asked knowingly.

Matt had rehearsed this in his head all morning; Molly had a great aunt and uncle that just surfaced and they wanted to take care of her. Thinking about it now however, he was sure that Maggie would never buy the sad attempt at duplicity. Perhaps too quickly he decided to be as honest as he could without involving Maggie too deeply.

"Yeah Maggie…" Matt rubbed the back of his neck, "is there somewhere we can go to talk privately about this?"

"Sure." She motioned a little behind Matt to a door marked conference.

Once the door closed behind them Maggie stood patiently with her hands clasped around the folder in front of her. "What's wrong Matt?" She questioned when he began fidgeting instead of talking.

"I need to find Molly, Maggie. I know I insisted on not knowing where you put her, but I need to find her, it's _very_ important." Matt didn't want to scare her, but the words came out more pleading than he had intended.

"Ok…do you want to tell me _why_ it's so important?" She brushed her black bangs from her eyes. She already looked like she had worked a full eight hour day and her ponytail looked as if it wouldn't survive another five minutes.

"Not really." Matt answered hastily.

Maggie eyed him keenly and sighed. "Ok, let's go." She twisted the door knob and pulled it open waiting for Matt to exit.

Matt didn't move. He stood there looking at her like she was a genie who had just granted his wish. "Just like that…you're just gonna tell me where she is?" He asked amazed.

Maggie smiled warmly but shook her head. "Matt, I can't just give you the address of a foster family…there are matters of privacy. I can take you there, it will be less invasive and time consuming since it would take time to go through the proper channels."

"Maggie I don't want you to get yourself into trouble. If you take me there that involves you in a way I didn't anticipate and I can't…" Matt wanted to continue but couldn't think of a way to tell her he didn't want to get her killed or hospitalized.

"Don't worry Matt; I know where the cracks are…I'm not going to be doing anything that would jeopardize my job. But I'm not going to send you off to a foster family's house to, what, _talk_ to their foster daughter?" Maggie raised an eyebrow.

Matt had absolutely forgotten to figure out a way to take Molly with him without kidnapping her, and now he realized that Maggie was going to be his _only_ hope of not just finding Molly, but getting her back. "Maggie…" Matt began sheepishly, "I don't need to just talk to Molly…I need to take her with me."

"Of course," she agreed halfheartedly, "I expected as much. I knew how hard it was for you to give her up Matt, and how much she wished she could have stayed with you. I knew the next time I saw you it would be because you wanted her back. Her foster family has asked me about the possibility of adopting Molly a few times, and each time I put them off because I knew…" She finished with placing a hand on his shoulder and giving a friendly squeeze.

"I have an idea. Molly is basically hidden in the system anyway…she's never been a problem like some of the kids so there are no reports on her or any history really. I'll just have to inform that a relative of Molly's has surfaced and wants to take care of her." Maggie said resolutely.

Matt started laughing, a little too hard. He didn't care if Maggie thought he was crazy, because he was starting to think it himself. He agreed to her proposed cover story without hesitation, filling with excitement at seeing Molly, and anxiety at what waited for them after.

Maggie headed out of the city and across the river to the east. Eventually they came upon a sign for route 43 exit 8 to Defreestville. He observed it to be a smaller town, suburbs…safe. He was glad that Molly had a nice place to live. The house wasn't large, but modest. He would have approved had he seen where she would be living before making the decision. They pulled up and parked across the street down the way some.

Maggie moved to unbuckle her seatbelt, as did Matt when she suddenly stopped him with a hand on his arm. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"I'm going with you." Matt answered as though it should have been obvious.

"No you're not. I can't take you in there Matt." She informed him.

"Maggie…" Matt started to protest but was stopped when he heard something else, a voice in his head.

_Please don't hurt her, please, please, please!_

Matt's face fell to a look of horror. Maggie could only sit confused and watch him tear the belt off and catapult out the door.

"Matt!" She yelled but he was already jogging across the street toward the house. She quickly followed him mumbling under her breath about scaring Rick and Sarah the foster parents.

As Maggie crossed the street she saw Matt push the door open without touching the knob. Her heart skipped a beat. Something was wrong and Matt had known it.

***

Nathan walked through the front door of his mother's home. "Mom." He called out, the word slightly echoing through the foyer.

Angela wasn't expecting Nathan for a few more hours; lunch hadn't even been started yet. She heard his voice bounce off the walls so she headed toward the stairs, descending them slowly and deliberately.

"Nathan, you're early." She stated.

"I'm sorry Ma but I have a meeting at 1o'clock and I didn't know if it would run long." He waited to embrace her in a mother son hug as soon as she had reached the bottom of the steps.

"Well, it's a bit early for lunch…there is coffee if you would like some." Angela motioned absently toward the kitchen.

"No…can we go in the living room and sit down?" Nathan suggested.

Angela was suddenly aware that Nathan carried a brief case in his right hand; Nathan never carried a brief case. It intrigued her. Angela inclined her head toward the room in agreement and Nathan followed behind her.

The whole scene looked very formal. Had an outsider been observing they might never have guessed that the two were such closely related; Nathan closed off and confrontational, Angela mysterious and difficult.

Once they had settled Nathan brought the brief case to his lap and removed two manila file folders. He closed the case and slapped the folders on top of the leather before resting his arms over them in a protective pose.

"Since I started this I've seen some things occur I'm not all together comfortable with…"

"Hmm…" Angela interrupted.

Nathan gave her a reproachful look and continued. "Not about what I've started, but about the methods being implimented. I know that a large percentage of these people aren't immediately dangerous…but some of them are." He added quickly when his mother smirked ever so slightly. "I never wanted to be Attila the Hun, sending warriors out to claim their prize no matter the cost. It had never been my intention to get anyone hurt, or killed."

Angela was a bit surprised that her son was confiding in her given the fact that she had warned him that he was engaging in a volatile spectacle. "And now that you have had casualties, you are having second thoughts?" Angela said.

"No, not second thoughts. I know what I'm doing needs to be done. Ma, there are people out there that could seriously injure innocent people, or kill them and some of these people don't know what they have or how to use it. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. No, what I'm doing is necessary…I just want a _better_ way of doing it." Nathan looked down at the files beneath his hands and took a deep breath as he prepared to do something he definitely didn't want to do.

"I thought about what you said, and although I don't agree with the way the company was run, I do think they might have had one good idea buried beneath their collective screw ups." Nathan admitted.

Angela nodded knowingly. "One of us, one of them."

"Not quite. I'm not willing to let any of them use their abilities uncontrolled, but I was thinking…certain abilities _can_ be useful…and I think I've found what I've been looking for, _a better way of doing this_." Nathan reluctantly handed his mother the first of the files.

"Are you drawing a line Nathan? How are you to judge who is useful and imprison those who are not." Angela looked at the folder, and back at him, waiting for an answer.

Nathan pursed his lips trying to hold back his hostility. He dropped his voice low and looked his mother straight in the eye, the way she would have done. "You've seen the destruction, the lives taken by these people…"

"Oh stop it Nathan! Really…these people!" She rose from the seat next to her son, tossing the file back onto his brief case. "You _are_ one of these people, one of _us_. Denying who you are, especially to yourself, will only serve to tear you apart in the end. This operation, this joke of a preemptive strike…it has ostrisized you from your brother, your friends, you've already lost your wife and children. Why are you doing this Nathan?!" Angela turned away from him hiding the sudden rush of ferocity that had escaped her.

This was the conversation Nathan didn't want to have with her. It was the very reason he had his assistant call and confirm a time for lunch that he had no intention of showing up for. He knew that surprising her with an earlier visit than she was expecting was his only chance at derailing whatever intentions she had for the meeting. He underestimated her.

"I'm not here to defend my actions to you." He began calmly. "It is because of _me_ that you are able to stay in your big…_empty_…house and keep your freedom, your security. I'm trying to save the world Mother, from…us. Now, given the way this conversation was heading, you can see how hard it is for me to have to come here and ask for your opinion. So I hope you can put aside your negative judgment of me and my actions for the moment, and help me."

Angela lowered her head, still with her back to her son. She could almost hear his little 8 year old voice in her head, begging to take him to the stables so he could go riding. "Of course, Nathan." She turned, all emotion wiped from her face. "What is it that you wanted to show me?"

"I was looking over files of some of the people we had already caught, and some we are on the verge of bringing in. These two," Nathan grabbed the folders handing one of them to his mother and opening the other one himself, "caught my eye. I noticed the last name, Tanner, see. Turns out they are related, mother and daughter, and they share more than blood, they share their ability." Nathan explained.

Angela was only mildly surprised at the connection between the older and younger women. Her attention was more focused on the picture in Nathan's file.

_Olivia, hmm…pretty name._

The woman smiled back from the photo, her brown hair cropped to just below her chin spun in loose waves that resembled the same sort of disarray she had seen in her dream. But something was off about her expression. Even with a wide grin across her face, her eyes glinted with a sadness she couldn't quite place. Angela looked down at the file she held in her own hands finding where the ability was listed almost instantly.

"Empathy. Nathan…" Angela looked at him with a reproving eye. "how do you expect to control some one enough to get them to use their ability to help you. Believe me, this isn't like training a dog." She walked away from him toward the window, wishing Nathan had given her the other file.

Nathan knew what he had to do next, and he knew that her own ego would not let her say no. "Exactly, that's why I need your help. For years you all ran the company, convincing people with abilities to give you their loyalty, even when faced with hurting one of their own kind. I don't want to train somebody to react to a command, I want to convince them that they are doing the right thing, doing what's best, because it _is_ what's best."

"Nathan…a person with empathy would know they were being manipulated. You would need to be absolutely, 100 percent committed to this course of action…know in your heart that what you are doing is right. Can you do that Nathan?" Angela found herself wishing he would deny the capability to turn his back on his own.

"I already have Mother." Nathan fired back resolutely.

"Ok then. Have you given any thought to which of the mother and daughter you would like to enlist in your crusade?" Angela asked sure she knew the answer.

"We already have Tina in custody, picked her up yesterday morning. A team was sent for her daughter Olivia, but when they arrived the apartment was empty. They don't know where she is. As far as anyone can tell she had no friends, no one who she would go to for help except her family." Nathan paced back toward the sofa.

"What about her family?" Angela prompted.

"We have a team watching the house. If she shows up they'll take her in." Nathan assured.

"You didn't answer my question." Angela pointed out.

Nathan gave her an annoyed glance up through his eyelashes. "With everything I've seen, and all that I know about the older generation, I believe Olivia would be a better candidate. Her file says that she lives alone, that coupled with the fact that she moved away from her family and has no friends…she's a loner and probably a little naïve. It won't be difficult to show her the worst of our world…convince her to help stop people like Sylar."

Angela's mouth twitched at the mention of his name, along with the recalled image of he and Olivia riding together in a car. She had wanted to steer Nathan away from Sylar, Olivia, and ultimately Peter. It became evident that _that_ was not going to happen, but she might be able to slow him down.

"If you want my advice Nathan, start with the mother." She handed him back the file she held and reached out waiting for him to give her Olivia's.

"Why?" Nathan seemed honestly curious.

"Because, you already have her. Use her to learn what you can about the daughter. If this girl _is_ introverted enough, she might not be able to control her ability. People with empathy often retreat into themselves due to the rush of emotion that they have no explination for. Offer her an answer…if you could answer her questions, she will more than likely give you her trust. But the mother is where you should begin. Learn what you can Nathan. If you've ascertained anything from the plane crash catastrophe it should be to cover all your bases…know everything." Angela closed the file, committing as much of it to memory as she could.

She crossed the room to the silent man on the couch and handed him the file. He looked up at her before gathering his things and heading for the door. She remained in the doorway to the foyer and watched her son start out the door.

"One more question Ma. You haven't spoken to Peter have you, you don't know where he and Matt Parkman are, do you?" He questioned.

Angela smiled just sweetly enough. "No Nathan. I imagine they would have gone off the grid, it's the smart thing to do…and Peter is certainly that."

"Yeah, he used to be." Nathan left his mother, heading toward building 26 with a new agenda in hand.


	7. Chapter 7

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Chapter 7

Peter stared down into the draining sink letting drops of water fall from his face to disrupt the soap suds piled up in the basin. The bathroom door opened and in walked a man in a suit holding a duffle bag in one hand and a bus ticket in the other. Peter could feel the mans eyes on him, probably wondering whether it was safe leaving his things outside of the stall with the haggard looking man using the dirty bus station bathroom counter as a crutch. He had no interest in stealing the mans things, that would cause unnecessary attention, no he didn't want anything from the guy. He turned away back to the sink when he caught his reflection in the mirror, which startled him. He had to think for a second to remember the last time he had the opportunity to look in the mirror, sometime before the plane crash.

_No, in the cab…my eyes, I saw my eyes._

"Where to?" The cabby had asked.

"Just drive for now please, thanks." Peter had responded, having not yet made up his mind.

His mother's old tricks weren't as tricky anymore, not since Peter had seen what she was capable of. He knew there was a great deal she was purposely not telling him, especially about Sylar. For her to suggest _that_ name, above any other…of course it was a game for her. She had her own agenda, just like Nathan, and Peter was always caught in the middle. This time things were a little different…this time he had an agenda too, but he also didn't have a choice. Help was only coming from one side now, and though he couldn't exactly decide who was more of a villain to him at the moment, what other option did he have than to accept his mother's assistance…and find Sylar.

When Peter had asked the cab driver to take him to Jersey City the cabby smiled into the mirror nodding his head eagerly.

"Whatever you say." The cabby replied gleefully.

That was when he had caught his reflection. He had watched himself for a minute, tracing the dark circles forming under his eyes that were never there before, the mess his hair was in, wind blown by crashing toward the ground inside of a converted cargo plane…his eyes just seemed so dull and colorless. So much like he remembered seeing them after his father had died…the first time.

Peter caught a bus to Newark from Jersey City sometime during the night. He did absolutely no thinking on the short ride, only sleeping supposing his brain and body would need the rest.

His frustrations began to mount after exiting the bathroom when he considered what he should do next, where he should go. The bus depot he had arrived at wasn't particularly close to the inner city. In fact it was surrounded by a motel, a diner, and a gas station just off the highway. He didn't even know which part of the city he was supposed to be looking in and found himself starting to regret not having pressed his mother for more information when he'd had the chance. Then there was the other problem, the one he wasn't letting himself think about too much…the problem where Sylar has who knows how many abilities now, and Peter had only one. The only weapon he had to use against Sylar…would be Gabriel. Convincing Sylar would be impossible, but if he could just get through the exterior, down into the person Sylar really was, the person Peter knew he could still be, then he might have a shot at convincing him to lend a hand.

Peter shook the unwelcome thoughts from his head as he walked out into the mid morning sunlight. The whoosh of rushing traffic on the highway could be heard quite well from where he stood, as could the shrieking of bus brakes in need of servicing. Looking to his left he noticed the gas station, and to his right a motel and a diner. His stomach yelled at him in protest of having been empty for so long so he flipped his collar up, stuffed his hands inside his pockets and moved unnoticed down the sidewalk.

For its proximity to a bus station and a motel the diner was empty, not a single customer. When he walked in the waitress behind the counter spun to face him, her eyes wide as vinyl records. Peter smiled at her and she seemed to relax enough to motion for him to sit where he liked. Not wanting to seem antisocial, Peter took a seat at the counter a few seats down from where the waitress was standing.

"Would you like coffee…or a menu?" The waitress asked him.

"Uh yeah, both please." Peter responded and watched her as she seemed to jump a little at the sound of his voice.

She came to him coffee mug in hand and poured him a cup out of a fresh pot. Her name tag read Lauren in plain black print. A menu appeared from under the counter and she set it down in front of him before turning to walk away.

"Are you alright?" Peter found himself asking, chiding his emotional sensitivity during a time when he should be as invisible as possible.

"Yeah I'm…sort of. I'm sorry. We had an incident here yesterday evening, cops, ambulances…the whole nine yards. I guess I'm just a little jumpy." She squeaked out.

"Really…" Peter began to feel extremely suspicious and a little paranoid. "Nobody was hurt I hope." He tried to sound only mildly interested.

"Actually there were a few…not customers or anything…but the homeland security guys that came in looking for the fugitive terrorists didn't fend so well. Three of them were carted off in ambulances." Lauren seemed a little reluctant to tell her story.

A pounding started in Peters ears. At first he hoped that his head might actually finally be exploding, but then realized it was his heart beating so hard he could hear the blood rushing through his veins.

"Homeland security…really?" He forced himself to speak hoping that the terror hadn't shown on his face. "But you're open today."

"Yeah, can't afford not to be you know. Besides, they said it was ok." She answered lightly.

Peter needed more information. It couldn't be a coincidence that he was searching for Sylar and happened upon a diner that was invaded by homeland security to catch "terrorists".

"Well, I hope they caught who they were looking for." Peter offered, looking merely like an alarmed citizen.

Lauren dropped her eyes to the counter and wrung her hands together. "Well…that's what's got me all nervous like this. They didn't catch them. The man…well…he…I don't know what he did, but those homeland security agents were no match, even with their guns. The woman didn't do much, just kept an eye on the homeland security agents while he…did his thing." She was focused hard on the counter as she spoke, forehead scrunched up with anxiety.

"What happened to them?" Peter chimed in, breaking her from the counters' spell.

"What…oh, they got away. Ran outside and drove off, in her car I think." She grabbed a towel and started wiping the counter.

"What makes you think it was her car?" Peter asked trying not to sound like a reporter looking for a story.

"Well they didn't arrive together. I remember because he came in first, looked like he came from the motel, and he was grumpy…knew he wouldn't leave a good tip or anything. The woman came in a few minutes later, from the parking lot. I didn't see which car she got out of. But I'm pretty sure they weren't together when they got here, they didn't sit together or anything, didn't seem like they knew each other at all actually. But I suppose that's how they work, the terrorists, nobody knowing who anybody else is or what they're up to." She finished with the same lines he heard spewed through the news on a daily basis.

"At least they didn't hurt any innocent people." Peter concluded before ordering himself an egg and cheese omelet and french fries.

Lauren the waitress seemed content with ending the conversation and disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Peter to sip his coffee. He knew it wasn't a coincidence, few things were these days. Without knowing it, Peter had picked up Sylar's trail. He instantly felt the tiniest bit better, before it was washed away with the dread that he just couldn't seem to shake lately. There was a time when he looked hopefully toward the future, now all he wanted to do was make sure that the future came as slowly as possible. Only one piece of the waitress's story had caused him to raise an eyebrow. Who was the woman, and had his mother known about her when she sent him on this man hunt?

***

"Where is Matt?!" Daphne demanded again.

"Here, drink more of this." Mohinder shoved the straw between Daphne's lips, silencing any further inquiry.

She did not oblige him for long. "Mohinder…" she hissed.

"Daphne please, you need to stay in a calm state. Your wound had become septic. Do you know what that means?" Mohinder looked at her expectantly.

Daphne squinted at him, pursing her lips. "No." She admitted.

"It means that there was an infection in your wound that could have spread through your system causing you any number of septic related illnesses, septic phlebitis for example which is the…" Mohinder babbled on as he prepared to draw blood from Daphne.

"Mohinder!" She stopped him. "I understand I'm sick, I need to heal. You want me to stay calm, then tell me what happened to Matt!" She jerked her arm away from him just as he was about to pierce the skin. "Hey! Snap out of it, what happened?"

For a second he wished he could tell her that everything was fine, that Matt was safe and she was safe, and nothing was going to happen to either of them. He wanted to tell her that because he wanted it to be true for himself too, but it wasn't. He decided to leave out the part where he and Matt had fought while torturing Noah for information on how to find _her_. The rest of the truth was the best he could do.

"I'm sorry Daphne. I don't know where Matt is. We were at a motel; Peter had gone off for some…supplies. Matt and I were there and _they_ came. I told him to run, that I would cause a diversion. Draw their fire so he could escape. I went outside…didn't even make it out of the parking lot." Mohinder ridiculed himself.

Daphne's face fell as he recounted the timeline. Her eyes were drawn suddenly to the needle in his hand. He had crushed the plastic syringe with the iron grip of his ability. She knew how horrible he must feel, having to remember his futile attempt to relinquish all reason and put himself in danger for the benefit of some one else, not sure if his friends were ok or experiencing the same fate.

"It's ok Mohinder." Her attempt at comforting was a tad deficient, but he seemed to appreciate the effort.

"I'll…I'll get another syringe." Mohinder rose from the edge of the bed, barely managing not to trip over his own feet on his way to the supply cart.

Unexpected emotion shook his limbs as he crouched down, gripping the cart handle as if it was keeping him tied to the earth. He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they would go, feeling the pressure building in his eyes sockets, colors beginning to exploded against the backs of their lids. The last thing he wanted was to have an emotional breakdown in front of some one he had just ordered to stay calm. The pain trickled away slowly, releasing its hold on him enough so that he could take an unsteady breath, then another, and another until he was inhaling in a normal rhythm. He wiped away the moisture under his eyes with his coat sleeve and returned to Daphne, ready to do what needed to be done.

***

Claire bounded excitedly down the stairs, keys in hand, looking forward to a reasonably nice day.

"Mom, I'm going out for a little." She called to the seemingly empty rooms.

After a few seconds she expected for her mother to Marco Polo with her, but there was no response.

"Mom?" She called out again, a tiny hint of worry in her voice.

She rounded the corner through the doorway into the kitchen letting out a heavy sigh of relief when she spotted Sandra near the refrigerator on the phone.

"Mom?" Claire said in a hushed tone.

Sandra turned her head, holding up one finger over her shoulder.

"Yes, alright." She said into the receiver before placing her hand over the speaker and holding the phone out to Claire.

"What?" She looked at her mother, unsure of what was going on.

"It's Angela Petrelli, she wants to talk to you. Says it's important." Sandra's eyes always took on a glimmer of sadness mixed with annoyance when the Petrelli's came up in conversation.

Claire huffed and hesitated. "And why would I want to listen to anything that woman has to say? I think I've heard just about enough out of her, and Nathan. I'm going out for a while." She spun around in frustration to head for the front door.

"Honey…I know how angry you are, because I'm just as angry. But…well this isn't something you should just shrug off…" Sandra started to lecture.

"I'm not!" Claire exclaimed, a bit hurt by the assumption. "I want more than anything to be out there helping, doing whatever I can to stop Nathan, Dad…make some sort of difference. But I'm not…I can't because I just don't have that option, do I!" She finished angrily through clenched teeth.

Sandra looked at her with as much sympathy as she could muster through the worry and fear caused by their current situation. She wanted to pull her daughter into a hug and hold her, like she did when she was little. Tell her things would be ok, and that nothing bad was going to happen. But Claire knew it was a lie, just like Sandra did, so instead she said nothing.

"Just hang up on her." Claire called back to her mom as she walked away.

But just as she pulled the door open Sandra hurried around the corner and blurted out, "Peter needs help."

That stopped Claire dead in her tracks. "Peter." She whispered, breathless with unease. "What about Peter?" She demanded.

Sandra smiled apologetically and again held the phone out to her daughter.

Claire rolled her eyes and dropped her purse next to the front door. She looked up at her mother, and Sandra taking the hint walked back toward the kitchen leaving Claire alone to talk to Angela.

"Claire?" The voice on the other end would have sounded grandmotherly to anyone else, but not her, she knew better.

"Angela." Claire felt a strange satisfied tingle on the tip of her tongue as she used the older woman's first name, something she had not done before.

"Claire, I think Peter is going to be in need of some assistance, and naturally you were the first person I thought of." Angela cooed through the line.

"I'm sure." Claire grit her teeth and prepared to settle in for what she hoped would at least be an informative conversation if not a pleasant one.


	8. Chapter 8

I don't own Heroes

Don't worry, this chapter isn't all Sylar and Olivia again, it just starts out that way

Thanks for the reviews and I hope you guys are still with me here, enjoy!

Chapter 8

"Is that supposed to be some sort of a joke?" Olivia gawped at Sylar.

"I don't joke." He answered with a roll of his eyes.

"I'm not going to lift the bed. It's probably bolted to the floor anyway. This is insane…_you _are insane." Olivia pointed her finger at him but took a half a step back when he lowered his head and glowered up at her in a completely insane manner.

Olivia's eyes widened and she shut her mouth. Immediately Sylar feared he had scared her so he hunched his shoulders and held his hands up in a "why not" type of gesture to break the tension. "Look, it's easy…like I told you before. Just remember how it felt, that confidence that broke you out of your petrified pose and into the battle stance you so gracefully ended up in; partially sitting _on_ the table while _I_ did the heavy lifting."

The dry sarcasm made her want to smile, but she also knew he was half serious and thought better not to antagonize. "Fine." She conceded.

Olivia tried to remember the scene in her mind, remember the sounds and people inside the diner. She closed her eyes and envisioned Sylar standing in front of her grinning at the floor. It was barely there at first, the tingle of intensity that always started in her chest before it wormed its way through every part of her. When she finally relented to it, she felt energized and strong. She opened her eyes and concentrated hard, so hard her vision began to go dark around the edges.

"Oh, I think I saw the bed skirt move." Sylar added prodding at her poise.

The look she gave him would have wilted a spider plant.

"Why don't you try something smaller?" He quickly added.

"Like what, _everything is bolted down_! Everything is always bolted down in a motel so that nobody drives off with the furniture tied to the roof of their car!" She said resolutely.

Olivia plopped down on the bed looking up at Sylar looking down on her when an object on the dresser behind him caught her eye. She had to squint a bit but it seemed to be in the shape of a book. Immediately she wondered what title it might be and before she could even bring her hand all the way even with her chest the book was flying across the room narrowly missing Sylar's arm before jabbing a corner into Olivia's sternum.

"Ouch, hey…Hey, I did it!" She exclaimed even though she was more interested in looking at her prize than celebrating what she had just accomplished.

"Yeah, congratulations, you moved a book." He goaded with a furrowed brow, but didn't remain that way for long as he too was curious to know the title of the book. "What is it?" He asked in a low tone.

"The Book of Mormon." She answered with little enthusiasm.

She ran her hand over the fake leather binding and quickly thumbed through the pages enjoying feel of the thin soft paper sliding over her fingers. It hadn't even been a whole day and already she was pining away for her books, for any book really.

"Well, I guess we know why it's not bolted down. Who would steal a book?" Sylar commented as he turned to sit on the bed next to her.

Olivia looked sideways at him with a guilty expression and bit the corner of her lip.

"You are _not_ stealing the book." He responded to her unasked question without even looking at her.

"Why not?" She almost demanded.

"Isn't it morally wrong to steal a religious text?" He answered with a question, not unaware of the irony of him questioning some one else's moral fortitude. "Why would you want to steal it anyway, it's _The_ _Book of Mormon_. Unless…are you Mormon?" He joked without smiling.

"No I'm not Mormon." She answered with some force. She then shrugged her shoulders, but said nothing more. The way the truth sounded in her head made her look like the most monotonous and wearisome person to have ever been born.

"I just like books." She couldn't come up with anything better, and quite frankly she wasn't really as embarrassed as she expected.

"Oh…" Sylar responded in a surprised tone.

"Do I not look like a reader?" She replied dryly.

"Do I?" He shot back with the same dryness.

Olivia smiled to herself. "I guess we have that in common too then. You wouldn't happen to be unable to swim would you?" She joked.

Sylar was surprised by her lightness of mood considering the display of utter frustration only a few moments before. Though, it did seem to be contagious because he started to feel a little more lighthearted himself.

"I guess that's where we part ways; I am perfectly able to swim." He answered with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"So what now?" She asked awkwardly and out of nowhere.

He was definitely beginning to understand her personality. Once he opened himself up to it the process seemed quite simple. Intuitive aptitude would help him to understand more than just watches and abilities, but people too. He just never had any interest in trying to get to know somebody on more than just a superficial level_._ Even with Elle he had only really known her for a short time and he hadn't spent much of it working on getting to know who she really was, just what he could see on the surface.

He was learning that Olivia was often inelegant in terms of conversation, and at times standoffish…but not an offensive person. In fact she seemed to always be making an attempt to be as objective as possible. Her humor was dry and sarcastic, something he could appreciate, and she was prone to short dramatic outbursts that were more comical and endearing than anything else. She had also remained relatively up beat considering their current situation. He had yet to watch her out of the corner of his eye and find her sulking. It also proved abnormally easy for him to be around her and he could see why people chose to confide in her. If nothing else she was honest, just not very open herself.

At some point near dawn the night before, he had fallen asleep. When he opened his eyes Olivia was already awake and moving around. They said their good mornings and not much else. Sylar showered and changed back into his already over worn outfit, same as she had done. The next few hours were spent flipping through the basic cable in relative silence, even though he knew she was probably itching to continue the conversation from last night. He gathered she was waiting for him to start the conversation since he had been the one to end it the night before, but her question was something he would rather have avoided since it would just lead to more _involved_ questions.

After Olivia had fallen asleep all Sylar could think about was what he should say to her regarding…who he was. The moment hadn't yet come where he wanted to either run as fast and as far from her as possible, or kill her and steal her ability. That fact alone was enough to disturb his formerly unshakable temperament. He found her company unimposing to his preference towards a solitary existence. He kept trying to remind himself that he had only known her less than a day, and should expect the annoyance of having another person around to creep up over time just like it had with...Elle. It was more than just the fact that he wasn't bothered by her, it was that he was a little intrigued by her empathy and found himself wondering what kind of limitations it had.

His own experience with the ability was something he didn't often allow himself to think about since he had been trying to put that behind him and get back to being himself, to being Sylar. He remembered how it felt taking in some one else's emotions. Though at the time he felt something akin to awe for the strange ability, now he wanted nothing to do with it, but that didn't stop him from wondering. He knew empathy allowed for the absorption of emotion, but he had only recently contemplated the possibility of projecting emotion as well. He was fully aware that since being with her he had not felt quite like himself, starting back at the diner. Truth be told he was much too anxious about somebody who had the power to make him feel anything they wanted, so decided not to bring it up just yet. Instead he thought testing her telekinesis would be a much more suitable activity as opposed to the other options.

He knew damn well she would never be able to lift the bed, especially since he too assumed it was bolted to the floor. The book was a small accomplishment for her, but it showed him what her ability responds to the most. With Peter it was fear, but with Olivia it seemed to be desire. She had seen the trash can coming and _wanted_ to stop it; she noticed the book on the table and just _had_ to know what it was…because she likes books. It confused him a little, that her ability should react to a feeling that hadn't been the source it was absorbed through in the first place.

Sylar thought back on what _he_ was feeling at the diner. She had said there was a rush of confidence from him, which was no surprise, but he also remembered wanting nothing more than to clear his path of obstacles. That was what he always wanted when he used his telekinesis. It never occurred to him that his ability would respond to an emotional trigger, but apparently desire was his as well. All of this introspective thinking was giving him a headache and putting him in a bad mood.

"Now…" he started with a huff, "…you practice." He rose from the bed and headed toward the door to look out of the peep hole.

"I meant…" she began to correct him.

"I know what you meant." Sylar answered with his back to her.

Still sitting on the bed Olivia took a quiet breath and prepared to use her ability. She was somewhat hesitant about doing it since in the car she had considered the fact that using empathy on him, or anyone, was a relatively big invasion of privacy. Sure a lot of people felt comfortable telling her everything anyway, but she wasn't nosy and didn't want to adopt such an unfavorable personality trait. Her mouth opened to start asking him for permission when her ability accidently triggered. He was at a loss, uncertain, conflicted…not that surprising since she had assumed as much when he failed to answer her question. It continued to confound her how uncomplicated it was to read him, even unintentionally, when she never before had the desire to use her ability for any purpose. Then she began to think. At her apartment the only reason she had been aware of the impending invasion of government agents was because her ability had let her know…without any conscious effort to do so. She wondered for a moment how much more she could do with it, the maximum distance at which she could sense another person, how many people could she clearly read at one time…a hope sparked in her that the ability she had so long thought of as a hindrance could be very useful, especially with existing circumstances.

"Sylar?" She started delicately since having inkling that his suggestion to practice her telekinesis earlier was an effort to stave off more questions.

"Yeah…" He answered looking away from the peep hole.

"I…_get away from the door_!" Her jaw nearly unhinged from her skull and she could feel panic exploding inside of her…but that wasn't all she was feeling.

He looked at her confused then whipped his head back to the door as he quickly began walking backward toward her. She stood and grabbed his arm to pull him in the direction of the bathroom just as the door burst open, sending splinters of door jam flying into the air.

***

"MOLLY!?" Matt called out at full volume, twitching his eyes in every direction frantically searching for the girl.

Matt!" Maggie said. "Don't…come on we can't go inside, we have to call the police. The door has been broken in." She counseled as she looked at the splinters of wood that littered the floor in the small foyer.

"NO! No cops Maggie. We have to find Molly. MOLLY!?" Matt ignored her grasp on his elbow and moved deeper into the house.

Using his ability he listened for Molly's thoughts but got no sense that she was in the house at all. He could however hear two other people somewhere inside. Matt assumed it to be Molly's foster parents and finding them wasn't exactly a priority for him. Maggie on the other hand was becoming increasingly bothered by the whole situation. He knew she would draw the wrong conclusions about what was going on just then, and the look in her eyes told him he was right.

"Rick…Sarah…" Maggie shouted hoping to get some sort of response.

As soon as she rounded a corner into the living room she stopped mid step and screamed for Matt.

"Maggie…" Matt said to himself, remembering she was with him. "Maggie, what's…" His question was answered before he finished asking it.

On the floor of the living room lay two adults, a man and a woman. Maggie rushed to the woman's side turning her over and checking her for a pulse. The woman, Sarah, moaned as her eyelids began to flutter.

"Molly." She croaked.

"It's ok Sarah, it's Maggie." She tried to comfort.

Matt followed suit with Maggie and went to the Rick's side. The man was out cold, and Matt could barely make out anything coherent in his mind as he dreamed. Maggie had the woman sitting up in a matter of a few minutes but she was still too disoriented to be helpful. Maggie instructed Matt to get a glass of water from the kitchen, and he obeyed.

"Sarah, what happened?" She asked as soon as the woman distractedly gulped down half the glass.

"We were watching TV…noises outside…the door, they broke through the door…" Sarah became more upset with every word she spoke. "Molly…Molly, they took her! They took Molly!" The woman was frantic now.

She tried to get up but Maggie held her in place on the floor against recliner. Sarah's fear had given her a strength that Maggie was not prepared for, fighting with her as she lost any lingering capability for reason. Matt looked on Sarah with pity, knowing exactly how she felt because it had happened to him when he thought he lost Daphne. His impatience was beginning to show however, no matter the amount of understanding he had for the stranger.

"Maggie…we have to go, we can't stay here now." Matt pushed.

Maggie shot him a look that made him cringe. "What happened to you Matt!? You were a cop, protect and serve...You want to leave, then go, leave. I'm gonna stay here and make sure they're ok. You know, these people here who took care of Molly when you couldn't!" She struck a nerve without realizing it.

"Don't you dare talk about that! You have no idea what is going on! If you did, you wouldn't be so quick to judge, or so slow to move!" Matt shot back.

"You're right, I have no idea what's going on." She talked over Sarah's head as she collapsed into Maggie's lap sobbing uncontrollably. "You come here, tell me you need to get Molly back, you say it's important, and then we come to find this! These are terrific people Matt; they don't deserve whatever happened here."

"I know Maggie, but there isn't anything I can do about that now. I thought she would be safe here, I gave her up to keep something like this from happening!" He explained as he nervously watched out the front door.

Maggie just looked at him shaking her head. "You know what you're problem is Matt? You don't see the big picture, you never have. You're so focused on one thing or another and you get tunnel vision, it's always been your biggest fault."

"I don't need a _lecture_ right now Maggie. Please, just give me your car keys and I promise you won't see me again." Matt stepped into the living room from the foyer extending his hand to her.

"The only way you are getting back in that car is with me in the driver seat." Maggie took a moment from defying Matt to notice how quiet Sarah had become. "Sarah, are you ok? Do you want some more water?"

"Rick tried to stop them…" she began with glazed over eyes, "they had weapons, stun guns. I thought they were the swat team, six of them, but couldn't imagine why the swat team would be…Rick went at one of them when they pulled Molly down the stairs screaming…god Molly…They shot him with the stun gun, and then they just left." She choked out before the far off look spread from her eyes to her entire expression and she became still.

As she was speaking Matt could hear in her head a replay of Molly screams as she was pulled from the house…screaming his name. This incensed him more than having watched Daphne get gunned down just feet away from him.

"Sarah…?" Maggie tightened her arm around the woman's shoulders and pulled a cell phone out of her pocket.

"Maggie, No!" Matt blurted out as she hit the send button.

"Yes, there has been a break in at 7893 Braxton Circle. Please send an ambulance." She snapped the phone shut and gave Matt a long and serious look.

Matt backed up a few steps as Maggie rose off the floor never breaking her stare. "It was 911 not the police. An ambulance is coming. Now, we are going to get into the car and we are going to drive away from here and hope that when the police _do_ show up none of the neighbors have recognized me and tell them that I was here with a strange man and left just before they showed up."

"Maggie, I'm sor…" Matt tried to offer, but was cut off.

"I don't want to hear that you're sorry. I want to hear why it is that I am in this very precarious situation, I want to know why you came here for Molly in the first place, and you'll have as much time as it takes for me to make the 35 minute drive back to my house. Understand?" She was not leaving him any room to wiggle away.

It was too late now anyway. He had brought her into this, but hadn't been prepared for something like this to happen. He thought it would be rather painless actually. Plus she was right, it _was_ a very precarious situation, one he wasn't sure he knew a way out of. Molly was the reason he had gone there in the first place, and if she was already in custody then that changed everything. He had no way of getting a hold of Peter to tell him about the pivotal snag …he was on his own. If Maggie wasn't so angry at him he would have been thankful to at least have a friendly face around…that face was anything _but_ friendly at the moment. She wanted an explanation, and Matt had no choice now but to give her one.

***

"Here you are Senator." His assistant handed him the file with a coy smile.

"Thank you." Nathan barely looked up as he immediately opened the folder and began thumbing through.

"The prisoner is en route and should be here around 2:30 sir." The woman informed with a frown at his entire lack of attention to her.

"2:30? She should have been here a half hour ago and now it's going to take another hour, what's the problem?" Nathan did look up then.

"…I'm sorry sir; Mr. Danko just said that…" She started.

"Danko…where is he?" Nathan got out of his chair.

"Uh, he's just out there sir." The assistant directed him toward the center of their activities.

Nathan's stride coming down the hall was strong and purposeful. When he reached command central the room was buzzing with activity. They were supposed to be bringing in five specials that afternoon, and everyone was on the tips of their toes waiting for confirmation that the targets had been captured. Danko was discussing something with a computer tech when Nathan spotted him. Instead of going to him Nathan called out to the man and motioned with a jerk of his head to follow him into the hall.

Danko had little patience for men like Nathan Petrelli, but men like him were a necessary evil in Danko's world. He saw Nathan as a means to an end, and he would ride the wave of destruction Nathan had started until it hit land. After that Danko thought he might make his own wave. But for the time being he was begrudgingly content to, at the very least, listen to what Senator Petrelli had to say.

"This needs to be brief Senator, we _are_ in the middle of a few operations at the moment and I need to be…"

"Why has Mrs. Tanners' arrival been pushed back an hour and a half? She should have been here at one." Nathan was not concerned with what Danko had been in the middle of. He hadn't particularly like the man upon fist meeting him, and since the incident at the crash site he was less of a fan of Danko than Danko was of Claire. Tina Tanner was his main focus since he was hoping that she would lead him to a means of replacing the abhorrent little bald man.

"We were short a team. There was another assignment that came up and I thought it was more prudent to use my team for that purpose than to retrieve some one we already have in custody." Danko answered straight to the point, not wanting the encounter to last any longer than it had to.

"Really?" Nathan crossed his arms over his chest, file still in hand, and shifted his weight forward to glare down at Danko. "What assignment was that because I don't remember giving an order to bring in another target?"

"We located a target in upstate New York. _You_ were with your Mother when the information came in. I gave the go ahead…they are _my_ men after all Senator, let us not forget that." Danko responded with his usual lack of charisma.

"_You_ should remember who is in charge here, no matter whose men they are." Nathan resumed his relaxed pose before continuing. "Who was it?"

Danko had no idea the name of the target and instead of looking he handed Nathan another file in an effort to keep him busy.

"Molly Walker, she's only a kid!" Nathan exclaimed with disgust in his voice.

"She's got an ability…just like the rest of them." Danko responded without sympathy.

"She's not like the rest of them…she's a little girl for god sakes! I already made the decision regarding any kids with abilities; they are the last to come in. What about that was unclear?" Nathan was fuming.

"Sir?" The computer tech tried to grab Danko's attention.

"I'm doing my _job_ Senator. There was an opportunity to gain some ground and I took it. I won't second guess myself, and your lack of confidence in your own plan won't make me second guess myself either because unlike you, I have the stamina to see this through." Danko turned away from Nathan and tended to the computer tech's question.

On the return trip to his office Nathan's stride more resembled a walk of shame than a step toward success. Danko was becoming more of a thorn and less of a blessing with each passing day. Nathan looked at his watch cursing time for not moving faster. He opened one of the files in his hand, the wrong one, and found a picture of a happy smiling young girl looking back up at him. For the first time Nathan questioned his resolve.


	9. Chapter 9

I don't own heroes

So last nights episode was terrific...I love the way they just completely change directions, tying to shine a brighter light on Nathan again. We love him, we hate him, we love him, we hate him again...I love it! Anyway, enjoy this chapter :) (I promise, this story is going somewhere)

Chapter 9

Since ending the phone conversation with Angela, over an hour ago, all Claire had been able to do was sit quietly in the kitchen with her mother and Mr. Muggles. Sandra didn't press her daughter for information at first, she knew better. But Claire hadn't said a single word and it was becoming worrisome. Mr. Muggles barked at her as she sipped on a cup of tea, but she paid the dog no attention as she stared off into space seemingly oblivious to any outside stimulus.

"Claire?" Sandra spoke tentatively.

Claire's eyes quickly darted toward her mother and softened once she took in the troubled expression on her face. "I'm sorry Mom." She wasn't exactly sure how much she wanted her mother to know about her conversation with Angela. There would be nothing worse than pulling her mother into the fiasco and her being hurt because of it. "Things are a lot worse than I thought."

"What is it sweetheart?" Sandra moved closer to her daughter draping a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Mom…I can't tell you everything." She said with sympathy. Claire looked down into her mug and sulked. If there was one person she knew she could trust it was her mother, but that wasn't the point.

"Honey I know you think you have to protect me, but I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm not as fragile as I look." Sandra playfully squeezed her daughter.

Claire forced a small chuckle before letting the seriousness of what she was about to tell her mother show on her face. "Angela had a dream…of the future. She saw Nathan and Peter standing opposite one another. Nathan was standing with a woman that Angela had never seen before that. She says her name is Olivia and she has empathy which is apparently the ability to feel other people's feelings. Angela says Nathan is looking for her now because he thinks she can help him with capturing us, so nobody gets hurt."

"How can some one like that keep people from getting hurt?" For a moment Sandra wished Noah was there simply because she hated making Claire explain all of this to her when her mind was clearly overburdened as it was.

"I guess empathy works in a few ways. One of them is to project emotion onto other people, along with absorbing them. Apparently Nathan wants to use her to make us docile while they cart us off one by one to god knows where." Claire hunched her shoulders and stared into her mug harder than ever.

"And what _exactly_ does Angela want you to do about that?" Sandra had an edge to her voice as she imagined all the ways the Petrelli Matriarch could put Claire in serious danger.

"Nothing." Claire said.

"Then what…"

"Sylar is alive." Claire spoke with a hatred that sent a chill down her mother's spine.

"Claire, what…You killed him, he burnt up in the fire." Sandra was genuinely bowled over, and nervous.

"I know Mom. I don't know how, neither did Angela but she said that it was Nathan and Olivia standing opposite Peter…and Sylar." Claire's bottom lip jutted out as she put on the biggest frown her muscles would allow.

"Peter, but he…"

"I know! Ok, I know Mom! Peter saved my life, more than once and it makes me want to throw up knowing that he's working with that…that _monster_, again." Claire stood up from her seat and stomped over to the sink to rinse out the remainder of her tea.

"Claire…" Sandra crooned.

"I don't know what to do Mom. Angela says that Peter needs help, that he's going to set something in motion that could get him killed. How am I supposed to stand by and let it happen, how can I just be sitting here drinking tea knowing that people I care about are in trouble. Peter, Matt…Nathan is looking for every single one of us…everyone but _me_. And now instead of just imprisoning us he's going to use us against each other! No wonder Peter teams up with that bastard, what choice does he have against an enemy like this. What choice do any of them have! At least the company only wanted to keep the most dangerous of us off the streets…at least Dad wasn't out to make us disappear completely when he worked for them." The longing in her voice wasn't as well hidden as she would have liked when she mentioned her father. No matter how horrible his current judgment proved to be, he was still her father and she missed him.

Sandra said nothing while she contemplated the truth in Claire's words. Truly she owed Peter her daughters' life, and for him to team up with the man that hurt Claire so completely should have made her want to throw up too. But Claire was right, this enemy was too big and Peter would do what needed to be done to stop it, even if it meant working with Sylar.

"What does Angela want you to do, exactly?" Sandra didn't know if she wanted to hear, because she knew that whatever it was, Claire would be willing to do if it meant helping her uncle.

Claire sighed, knowing there was no use in holding back now. She was about to find out how _not fragile_ her mother actually was. "Peter wants to find others like us; people with abilities that could help him stop Nathan. He called Angela asking for help, but it's dangerous for them to have contact with each other right now."

Sandra eyed her daughter carefully, forming a question in her mind. "So Angela wants you to be the messenger? Absolutely not Claire, and with those agents watching you, it's too dangerous! They'll follow you and you'll lead them right to Peter."

"That's not exactly what she had in mind. She gave me three names, names of people with abilities that could be useful…she wants me to find them and talk to them, warn them…convince them to help. I know this scares you Mom, but I have a responsibility, just like Peter." Claire looked down at the floor, knowing her mother's reaction would be epic.

After a moment of silence she looked up slowly, checking to see that her mother hadn't exploded with rage. There was no sign of wrath on her face, only consideration.

"Mom?" Claire prompted.

"You're not in high school anymore…you're not a little girl anymore. You are a young woman, with an extraordinary gift. That should make it easier, but it doesn't. You are my daughter, and I love you just the way you are, and I worry _every_ _time_ you walk out the door that you might not come back. Not because you might get hurt or killed, but because of what you have. You will never be safe, not as long as the government stays behind Nathan Petrelli's plan, so…if Peter can stop it and the _only_ way he can do that is with your help…then I can make peace with that if it means that one day all of you who deserve it will be safe again. I mean, like I said it's not like you can get hurt, right?" Sandra's eyes were sad as she finished, but Claire had begun to smile.

"Really? You would be ok with this? Because once I do this I can't go back Mom, when they find out they _will_ come looking for me, that free pass will mean nothing." Claire reminded, hoping it wouldn't change her mother's mind.

"I know honey, but you trust Peter right? You believe in him?" Sandra questioned.

"Yes, with all my heart." Claire said decisively.

"Then so do I." Sandra walked over to her daughter and hugged her tight, not really wanting to let go.

***

At least five armed agents penetrated the doorway, each one yelling commands over the others while waving their guns at Sylar and Olivia. The noise was tremendous causing her to wince as she half hid behind her telekinetic quasi friend. They were both surprised when he had instinctively wrapped his arm behind him and around her side, pushing her further behind his back. Unfortunately doing so effectively left him one handed, yet still he seemed confident enough to do without it. Olivia grabbed a handful of the back of Sylar's shirt as if holding onto it would make them both safer somehow. Soon he would use one of his abilities and get them out of _this _mess same as the last one. Then out of nowhere she began to wonder…if she could feel them…then could they feel her if she wanted them to?

Sylar had been stupefied initially, clearly off his game and he knew exactly why, but now he was getting into fight mode. He brought his arm up to wave off a few of the agents when just like _that_ everyone, including him, fell silent and still. The agents were all exchanging glances of puzzlement with one another, some losing so much of their motivation they began turning about in a circle as if they were unsure of where they were or what they had been doing there.

Olivia was holding her breath while inwardly rejoicing in her apparent success. As soon as the idea had transpired she was virtually certain it would work. She wanted quiet, _and_ she wanted them disoriented…so she imagined herself as being both of those things, felt the calm and the confusion nearly explode out of her as soon as she gave a little nudge. It was the same thing she did when she pushed back to keep emotion out, only with a lot more force behind it. The sensation of achievement both exhilarated and astounded her making it difficult to focus on the actual escape.

"Sylar go." She reluctantly released his shirt and pressed him forward.

He turned around slowly, staring at her with a muddled expression. "What?"

"Oh god!" She inhaled sharply and examined the far off look in his eyes.

"Hey…you." One of the agents suddenly turned to her narrowing his gaze to see her through the stifling mask he wore. "What are you doing here?"

Olivia's eyes widened. "Sylar, come on we have to leave."

"Leave? Where are we?" He looked around the room and over the gathered armed agents as if they were supposed to be there.

"Ok…ok." She breathed. Clarity permeated her bones as she clutched his wrist in an effort to funnel the emotion into _only_ him without directly affecting the agents.

The influence was instantaneous, Sylar began blinking rapidly. All he noticed at first was a busted up doorway and a handful of agents meandering about the room. His instincts told him to attack, but he was too taken aback by the entire lack of coherent assembly that had befallen the group of highly trained men. He noticed a warmth had started to radiate up his arm and glancing at it found Olivia's hand wrapped around his wrist. He shot a look down at her and raised his eyebrows with a bothered smile.

"Well…I guess this answers my question." He said under his breath.

Olivia screwed up her brow, but didn't care for an explanation just then, she was having a hard enough time focusing as it was. "We _have_ to go." She tugged on his wrist not entirely conscious that she was still holding onto it.

"Yes, I think it _is_ time for that." He reached over to the dresser grabbing the keys and towed her out of the room. They maneuvered around dazed agents only to find a few scattered just outside of the door. These men weren't as docile as their comrades, raising their weapons, but unsure of what to do next.

Sylar bent his elbow and snapped his arm straight sending a jolt of electricity into one of them leaving the others too stunned and preoccupied with the fallen man to pay them any further attention.

"Hey," she yanked his arm hard to make him turn to her, "I could have fixed that without hurting him." She insisted angrily.

"I don't care about _them_…now are you coming or not?" He walked away toward the car only looking back when he hadn't heard her follow.

Something was bothering her, but she couldn't put it into words, or even thoughts. When he used his ability on the agent she had still been onto holding his wrist and what went through her had stolen the breath right from her lungs. The amount of pain he barricaded inside of himself was devastating; nothing could have prepared her for it not even if she had known it was coming. As to the root, she had no guess, but greatly desired to know what it was.

"Olivia, _come_ _on_!" Sylar impelled.

The car started easily and Sylar ripped out of the parking lot onto the main road heading west. Olivia purposely abandoned her line of thinking on Sylar's emotions for a more uplifting memory. Shortly her attention was consumed by this newfound talent. It was enlivening to know that _she_ had done _that_ to _them._ Pride swelled up and lifted the corners of her mouth into an elated smile.

Sylar was a little less enthusiastic, but fascinated all the same. He had never met anyone with an ability that allowed for such absolute domination over some one else without physically restraining them the way he did with telekinesis. The telepath, Parkman, could push his thoughts into another's mind but as he understood it there had to be a constant connection, a steady intent to keep that thought in the persons mind. If he became distracted or interrupted his hold would break, but what Olivia had done seemed to be completely different. Even as he drove away watching in the rear view mirror none of the agents had begun to mobilize, not one of them had moved to resume their former purpose. After a moment he was too far down the road to see them any longer, but he wouldn't have been surprised to find out that they remained that way for a while.

It hadn't escaped his notice that Olivia was smiling out the window. She may have been in a suspiciously spirited mood, but _he_ was becoming nervous. If there was one thing he feared it was letting himself be taken over by emotion. Logic, understanding, knowledge…those were the only things he needed, the only things he _wanted_. He also found that he wanted something else; he wanted Olivia around despite his growing unease toward her empathy. Though, it perturbed him not knowing if it was what _he_ really wanted, or if it was just an affect of her ability. No matter his apprehension for what she could do, he was obviously impressed by the irrevocability of it.

He wasn't entirely sure how to word the compliment. "That was…"

"I'm so sorry!" She interjected at once, letting him off the hook.

"What…for what?" He said befuddled.

"You, I mean I'm sorry to you. I just didn't think that whatever was going to end up happening would affect you too, I'm _so_ sorry. At least I know for next time then…" Olivia chuckled.

"You have to be careful with that, with what you just did back there." Sylar's voice was low.

"What do you mean? I was being care…"

"What you did is very powerful; screwing with peoples emotions is dangerous!" He yelled at her, half expecting that she would pull a shrinking violet and keep all of her own frustration and anger locked up.

"But _I_ didn't hurt a single one of them! _You_ on the other hand…" She blurted out with vigor.

"That's not the point!" Sylar growled, but was impressed by her immediate response.

"O…K…what is the point?" She asked mockingly.

Before he could yell another word at her he felt the fire in his nerves fizzle out calming him enough to stop the argument. "Are you doing that!?" He accused.

"Doing what!? I'm not doing anything." She defended.

Sylar's lie detection didn't go off which greatly contented him. After taking a deep breath and blinking slowly he continued in a more courteous manner. "That kind of power…it leads to things you don't expect it will lead to. If you aren't watchful and diligent you'll end up in the same…in a very bad place."

"What kind of power, what are you talking about! All I did was the _same_ thing you did at the diner, only _I_ left everyone standing!" She was still clearly agitated, not at all influenced by Sylar's current composure.

"Olivia what you just did was stop an entire team of well trained government agents from doing a job that their superior officer _commanded_ them to do. Guys like that, with _that_ kind of focus and determination aren't easily swayed from their duties. But _you_…_you_ just stopped them dead in their tracks and probably left them unable to figure out their own names for a while. _That_ is power." The seriousness in his voice left Olivia speechless and drained the anger right out of her.

"I said I was sorry for doing it to you too…"

"It's not about that Olivia. It's not about what your ability did to me _or_ them…it's about what it does to you. I saw you smiling, enjoying the accomplishment, having pride in the fact that you just did something that few people, maybe nobody else can do. It made you feel strong, important, right?" He lectured.

She hesitated after the tone of his voice gave her the inclination to believe that he knew what he was talking about. "Yes…but so what. It's better than freezing on the spot wishing the threat would just go away isn't it?"

He had to concede her point, but wouldn't admit that to her. Fear made people do stupid things, and the desire for fearlessness often turned out even more catastrophic. All he needed to do was look at himself to see that. She wasn't there yet, she wasn't at the point of no return…and then it dawned on him. At that moment Sylar realized that _he_ might be her turning point, just like Elle had been his and it took the wind right out of his sails. Elle had been a part of the company, pulling him toward her sociopathic way of life. Now it was his way of life that would influence Olivia, whichever way he decided to go with himself would push her one way, or the other. That was a kind of responsibility he never, ever, expected. His epiphany engaged every bit of awareness he had, putting his brain on autopilot as he sped down the highway toward Newark.

***

After finishing his food the waitress obliged him with the phone book he had asked for earlier. There were a good number of Gray's in the book, but only three within five miles of the diner. If Sylar had been at the motel and diner without use of a car, Peter couldn't imagine that he would have walked more that five miles from his father's house. He jotted down the addresses and left a generous tip for Lauren the jumpy waitress.

He knew it was dangerous to use his ability but the thought of having to take the time to drive to each house made him impatient so he walked around the side of the building and made sure no one was looking before taking off into the air.

The first Gray he sought out was a Martin Gray, and only because he was closest to the diner. He landed in as inconspicuous a manner as possible considering it was broad daylight. The house appeared empty as he peered in through a back window. A craving for the invisibility he once possessed snuck up on him, thinking how invaluable it would be in keeping him from looking like a thief. He pushed the thoughts away, reminding himself that he could do this with what he had.

As Peter rounded the side of the house a car pulled into the driveway. Two young boys, maybe nine years old, sprang out of the back seat racing toward the porch before the car had come to a complete stop. They elbowed each other out of the way, all the while giggling uncontrollably as only children can. A woman exited the passenger door and called out to the kids.

"Don't play on the stairs you two!"

Peter eyed the man in the driver seat as he hid behind a conveniently placed shrub.

"Martin, Sam left his PSP in the back seat can you grab it please?" The woman called to Martin as he closed the car door.

"Got it." He responded.

Peter realized that he had the wrong Gray. Martin looked around 40, and Sylar was near 30 himself so even if he could have imagined the same man who fathered Sylar having a normal happy family, the man was obviously too young to be who he was looking for. He let out a disappointed sigh and prepared to take off to the next address when a noise in the house caught his attention. Right above him was a window, looking into hit he found himself staring into a playroom. The two boys were huddled together in the middle of the room, one of them beginning to sniffle.

"It's ok Sam, here see." The boy who spoke looked to be a year or two older than Sam.

"But I broke it Kyle." Sam said pouting.

"No see…" Kyle shoved an action figure arm back into the socket it had come out of. When it snapped in both boys smiled hugely at each other and Kyle handed the toy back to his brother.

"Thanks Kyle!" Sam yelled cheerfully before running out of the room, followed directly by his brother.

Peter had to clear his throat and wipe the moisture out of his eyes. He could recall moments like that in his and Nathan's childhood, when his older brother was his hero because he fixed a broken toy, or beat up the bully who picked on him at school. Looking at those boys he couldn't help but wonder how terribly wrong their relationship might turn out, what kinds of obstacles they might have to overcome before they could be brothers again. Filled with resentment, he took off hard; catapulting himself up above the clouds where the air was thin and Peter could just barely make out the topography of the land below. He wanted his head clear of nostalgia, of hope that he might get his brother back…because he'd already decided he didn't want him back, not this time.

He came down a few hundred feet to have a better view of the streets available to him as he headed to the next address on the list, a Samson Gray.


	10. Chapter 10

I don't own heroes, but boy do I wish I did!

So just to clarify, I know in the series Mohinder is the one who put Molly on a plane to god knows where, but that didn't suit my purposes so as I'm sure you've realized I changed it to Matt giving up Molly to a social worker friend.

I know there hasn't been any Hiro and Ando action yet but be patient, it's coming. In case no one has noticed...this is gonna be a long story.

Reviews are appreciated but not required...enjoy :)

Chapter 10

Maggie abhorred the choice to leave Rick and Sarah alone in that house to await the ambulance. Rick was still unconscious on the floor and Sarah seemed to have fallen into a severe state of shock, but the decision had been made. If she wanted to know what was going on, then she _had_ to leave, Matt insisted. After the car made it to the end of the block Maggie stopped. Matt began to protest but Maggie held up a finger narrowing her eyes at him as a screaming siren could be faintly heard moving toward them. The ambulance pulled up in front of the house maybe a moment later as she watched in the rear view mirror. A satisfied sigh escaped her as she put the car in drive and started up the road. Beside her Matt was sweating, clearly uncomfortable and on edge as he began fiddling with the seat belt strap instead of securing it around himself.

"Start talking Matt." She interrupted his aloofness.

"Maggie…I don't know where to start."

"Don't care Matt." She said dismissively. "You have ten seconds to tell me what the hell is going on before I kick you out of the car right here!" She practically came to a screeching halt in the middle of the street.

"Maggie!" Matt exclaimed.

He wasn't surprised by her ferocity, it was expected in fact. She was a no nonsense woman, had to be working with troubled kids. But that was what made her a good social worker. She didn't treat them like kids; instead she took the time to learn how to deal with each one individually, learning best how to communicate with them as people, not as children. The way she was now, direct and adamant, was they way she had always been with _him_.

"I'm not kidding Matt! You tell me why I just left those people alone and ran away from the scene of a crime where a little girl is missing…a little girl _you _gave up and came back for!" Maggie was becoming very angry with his noncompliance.

"You can't sit in the street like this, the cops will…"

"That's right; the cops will come and want to know why I'm suspiciously stopped in the middle of the road a few blocks down from a crime scene. What _I'm_ interested in knowing is where this extreme aversion to the police came from. You _were_ a cop for Christ sake!"

"Maggie please…"

"Fine." She put the car in park and sat back in the driver seat with no intention of moving.

Matt was almost beside himself. They were too close to the house and police would definitely be on their way once paramedics noticed the broken down door. "Maggie you aren't going to believe me, I don't know what to say here."

"Try the truth Matt, it always used to work for you." Maggie glared at him, waiting.

"The cops are after me, no…not the cops, the government. I can't be caught Maggie, please move the car." Matt struggled to stay calm as he gave her the information without any real explanation behind it.

"Matt! The government!?" She breathed out in astonishment. "What are you talking about, what did you do?"

"I didn't _do_ anything Mag, please we have to go!" Matt thought he heard another round of sirens heading toward them but couldn't be sure if it was real or just the anxiety getting the better of him.

Maggie searched his face finding nothing but genuine fear. She could recall times that Matt had looked scared, but nothing like this. Maggie put the car in drive once again and continued down the relatively empty streets. Sure enough rounding the corner were two police cars, sirens wailing, heading in the direction of Molly's foster parents home. Maggie didn't know what to say next. He had been right about thinking she might not believe him, because there was no reason she could think of at that moment that Matt would be wanted by the government. It was true they hadn't seen each other in a long time, but she knew Matt, they had become good friends over the time they had worked together. On a daily basis she watched him put his heart and soul into the job, helping people when he could. She knew all he wanted was to make detective, but feared he never would because he didn't truly believe in himself, another one of his faults. She knew every one of his weaknesses, and his strengths, and people just don't change _that_ much without some one noticing. He seemed exactly the same to her when they had met in the hallway at her work, except for one thing.

"Something's different." She said coming out of her introspective silence.

Matt had been starring out the window watching in the mirror for any flashing lights to race up behind them. "What?"

"You, you're not the same. I thought you were at first but…you're not, something _is_ different about you." She turned her head suddenly to stare at him. "What is it?"

"Maggie watch the road." Matt suggested.

"Tell me what's different Matt or I swear I'll…" She started to threaten.

"I can read minds." Matt blurted out simply to make her stop starring at him and look where she was going. Unfortunately it had the complete opposite affect.

Maggie's mouth hung open, her eyes unblinking as she looked at him in wonder. Suddenly she was teary eyed with laughter. Matt was stunned to say the least, it was certainly not the reaction he had been expecting, not by a long shot. It worried him a bit when she drifted close to the double yellow line and he felt like grabbing for the wheel, but managed to restrain himself.

"Maggie, please…" Matt tried to calm her.

"I'm sorry…I just…that's just…" She managed to stutter out in between the laughter.

"Why are you laughing!?" Matt sounded offended.

The laughter began to die down, and she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Just when he thought she was done, she started to chuckle which escalated into full blown bellows once again.

"Maggie stop you're gonna…MAGGIE!" Matt screamed.

The shock of his outburst instantly brought her out of the hysteria just in time to notice the stop sign she had ran and the big black box truck coming right at them.

***

"That won't be necessary gentlemen, thank you." Nathan gave a jerk of his head toward the door.

The two agents exchanged worried glances before leaving the Senator with the unchained detainee. Nathan circled the prisoner like she was an item up for auction, looking her over for any observable defects.

"Good afternoon Tina." Nathan greeted her cordially, though the environment was anything but pleasant.

"Good afternoon to you Senator." Tina answered politely.

Nathan paused at her unanticipated graciousness. "You know who I am." He said, more of a statement than a question.

"Senator Nathan Petrelli of New York. My husband and I were…_are_ very interested in politics. We were both pleased to hear about the strong stance you had taken against terrorism. Until of course we realized who you were actually referring when you were talking about _the terrorists_." She spoke very factually and seemingly bereft of emotion. There was no accusation or malice in her words but they were certainly not meant as a compliment.

The woman wasn't at all what he had expected, especially considering the ability she possessed. He read about what a person with empathy _might_ be capable of, what they experienced. It was the reason he brought her here, _and_ the reason he saw no point in chaining her up. If she wanted to hurt him it was entirely possible that she could, use of the hands didn't enter into it. It was the fact that she had so far displayed no emotion at all that threw him off and caused him to doubt his original intent for speaking with her. Nathan was never very good at reading people emotionally, that had always been Peter's niche. Logic had been Nathan's strong point, and figuring if Tina was anything like him then this wouldn't take as long as he thought.

He contemplated her response for a moment before answering with as much charisma as he could muster. "There are different kinds of terrorists in this country, some use planes and bombs as their weapons of choice…others use their god given…talents."

Tina shifted a bit in her chair at the last word.

"Of course you know what I'm talking about when I say that word…_talents_…don't you Tina?" Nathan walked around and sat facing her in the only other chair in the room.

She looked at him then for the first time and Nathan could certainly tell her age. Her shoulder length black hair hadn't been washed for a couple days and hung wilted around her face. Exhaustion caused the circles under her eyes to appear so dark it looked as if she had been hit. The lines around her mouth and wrinkles at her eyes told a story of many happy days spent smiling and laughing with her family.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about Senator." Her eyes drifted down to her lap where her fingers were entwined.

"Come on Tina," Nathan sat back with a small smile on his lips, "we both know that isn't true. I have a file here that I thought you might be interested in seeing." Nathan handed her a folder and waited as she read the name.

"You leave her alone." Tina sounded raw, as only a mother could when she was protecting her child.

"Tina you misunderstand. I don't want to hurt your daughter. I want to help her. Right now there are government agents out there, highly trained ones, looking for her. Yesterday morning they went to her apartment, did you know that?" Nathan asked sweetly.

Tina flicked her head up to stare at him, worry creasing the lines above her eyes. "Olivia…" She breathed.

For the first time Nathan saw her twitch with emotion. Angela may not have proved a shining example of motherhood, but he could tell Tina was different. She loved her daughter very much, and would probably be willing to do most anything to secure her safety. Nathan was almost giddy at the idea that he had been spot on with that assumption.

"I'm going to cut right to the chase here Tina. They won't stop, not until every last one of you is locked up, until the people of this country are safe from people like…him." Nathan tossed another file into her lap.

"Sylar?" She asked absently.

As she read on Nathan could see the disgust begin to show on her face. The expression only served to strengthen his dwindling faith in the decision to pursue this better way of doing things.

Tina flipped the file closed before tossing it right back into Nathan's waiting hands. She studied him for a moment, getting a sense of the man he was. "You think I'm blind to the monsters that populate this world. I assure you, I'm not. I've protected my children from them their entire lives using my ability. Do you have children Senator?"

The question caught him off guard, but he answered truthfully. "Yes I do, two boys…and I also have a daughter."

Tina smiled. "Then you know the lengths a parent will go to in order to protect their children." Her voice was inundated with wisdom.

A flicker of understanding danced across his face, thinking of Claire. "Yes I have some experience with that." He cleared his throat not entirely comfortable with being on this end of the interrogation.

"I know you do Senator…I can feel it. The worst part of it is the knowing isn't it? Knowing that one day we can't keep them safe any longer. That it's time for them to go out into the world and seek their own purpose in life. We guide them and keep them from falling into the hands of people like your Mr. Gray, but we can't choose their paths for them. Only they can do that." Tina watched Nathan curiously. "You don't want people to get hurt, I can feel that. But you want something else too, don't you?"

Nathan had prepared for this. In a strange way he wanted it, a display of her ability so that he might have first hand insight into what he could expect from her daughter, instead of just the miniscule amount of knowledge gained from reading the file. Even though he was afraid for the security of his secrets he didn't fight her, wouldn't have know how even if he wanted to. "I want safety for all of the…"

"You want revenge." She interrupted. "You feel cheated…wronged. I heard about your divorce Senator, round about a year ago wasn't it? You blame some one with an ability for it, don't you?"

Nathan couldn't answer, too afraid that she was on the brink of revealing that she knew about him, that she had felt his secret.

"It's ok, you don't have to answer." She almost sounded honestly comforting, like a mother should. "It wouldn't do you much good with me to deny it anyway." She chuckled at herself.

After a long moment of silence Tina sat forward in her chair looking Nathan right in the eye. "Why did you bring me here Senator?" Her voice again took on that emotionless ring from earlier.

Nathan was a bit rattled sure, but not enough to obliterate his focus completely. He wrinkled his brow as he remembered what his mother had said, _learn everything you can_. Right now his greatest desire was to end the conversation and get as far from the woman as possible. But he persevered, knowing that if he couldn't handle the mother he had no chance of managing the daughter. The charisma he so expertly exuded was doing him little good, so he moved on to a different tactic with the difficult woman.

"Do you like where you've been living these past two days?" He let his waning patience begin to show in the shortness of his tone.

"I…"

"Because sooner or later your daughter might be closer to you than you think. You want talk about protecting her, keeping her safe from harm. Well right now agents are closing in on her, armed agents trained to use deadly force if necessary and they won't stop until they've found her, do you understand?" Nathan leaned in close causing her to turn away slightly.

"She'll be taken into custody, sedated just as you were, and moved to the very same facility that you and so many others like you will be spending a good deal of your immediate future. Now, I don't want that for her, do you?" He watched her, waiting for the exact right moment. Then he saw it. She looked down, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was just what he wanted, the sign to prove that she really was the kind of mother he thought she was.

"What do you want?" She asked, knowing the answer would not be favorable.

Nathan observed Tina's posture, finding it disheartened at best. "Yours and your daughter's empathy is an extraordinary gift. It's something that could make her a hero, but not if they catch her first. I don't want your daughter hurt; I don't want any of you hurt. I want the exact opposite in fact. Maybe that's hard for you to believe, but I've shown you what somebody with no regard for life can become with these abilities. Sylar takes abilities...leaves his victims mutilated, exposed. Whether it's the government, or a mass murdering monster your daughter is in danger. I can help her, but only if you help me."

"Use me." Tina nearly jumped out of her chair.

Nathan expected the offer, and had a reasonable explanation for refusing it…the truth. "That's impossible Tina. And I think you know why. You can't project emotion, can you?"

Tina scowled at him. "What makes you think that? I've had quiet a long time with my ability, why would you assume…"

"Because if you could I would have been on the floor writhing in pain about the time I told you we sent agents to your daughters apartment…because while you may have had this ability all these years I'm guessing your main focus was to use it to understand your children during some of the most difficult years of their lives, not to push your feelings onto them. Now, like I said before you're daughter has an amazing ability that could be of great…influence…over so many different people in so many ways. Help me so I can help her…and she can help everyone, that's all I want." Nathan bit the inside of his cheek willing her to cooperate.

Tina refused to look at him, keeping her eyes closed as she envisioned Olivia, three years old in pig tails riding her tricycle in the family room wearing nothing but a gorgeous grin. It wasn't even a decision, there was no way she would let one of her children end up in the same position she now found herself in. Tina would do anything for her Olivia, even if it meant to betray her secrets to save her.

"What do you want me to do?"

Nathan bobbed his head in a pleased motion. "I want you to tell me everything about her…_everything_."


	11. Chapter 11

I don't own heroes.

Well I don't know about you, but I'm having fun. So, sorry for the slow beginning, but things should start to really pick up in the next few chapters so don't give up on me yet. We're just getting to the good stuff...I think...I hope.

Review if you feel compelled to do so, if not I hope you at least enjoyed reading :)

Chapter 11

He wasn't exactly sure at what point he realized where he was headed, he just knew it hadn't been that much of a surprise when he did. The aspiration to find his father, talk to him and ask him questions still lingered in his mind. Not as compelling as before, more of an afterthought now, but it was still present. Sylar knew the man wouldn't be there, but he also hoped that nobody would look for him at that house again, at least not for a while, enough time to get his head on straight anyway.

The drive hadn't been a long one but Olivia managed to doze off sometime after the abrupt end to their conversation. He looked over at her, head leaning back against the headrest, turned slightly toward him. She had a facade of peacefulness that Sylar found himself uncharacteristically jealous of. Peace wasn't something he sought; it was the exact opposite in fact. Chaos was his desire, and power…but never peace. Sitting back in the driver seat of the parked car he watched her sleep for a few moments. His thoughts drifted to earlier when she had used her ability to facilitate their escape. Anger emerged in the background of his thoughts as he briefly wondered how the agents kept finding them, especially when _he_ had no immediate idea where they would end up. Nothing made sense, frustration turning to disgust at his own disorganization. All he had wanted was to find his father, talk to him…probably kill him…and now he couldn't form any sort of cohesive plan for the direct future.

Olivia had thrown a stick in his spokes that he wasn't sure how to remove; honestly he wasn't positive he _wanted_ it removed. Being pursued by some one, even the government, was not new to him. He was after all a serial killer and one person or another was always trying to put a stop to his activities. But Olivia's something he hadn't come across in a long time…not since first meeting Elle all that while ago.

After having decided to dispel the humanity that had been building inside, the self-possession he had been expecting to surface just wasn't there. It wasn't like before…before Angela's lie. Getting back to being the monster he knew he was hadn't been as simple as he assumed. Hesitation plagued him, over thinking any step he had been about to take. Even the decision to go see his father when he finally knew where to look had been wrought with disinclination.

Before the last eclipse he felt the goodness reconstituting in his soul, it wasn't as shriveled and black as everyone had thought. For a little while he considered that he could be happy like that, live the rest of his life without hurting another person for his own advancement. Then, finding out Elle had betrayed him again, lied to him just like everyone else…it was the reason he had killed her. She represented everything good that had been developing and all of it had been based on a lie, just like the first time she had come to him as a company gal.

It escaped his discernment previously, but there really was no going back…not all the way. The seed of kindness had been planted when he wasn't looking, and there was no way to stomp it out, not completely. That was only because it wasn't as foreign an emotion as he would like to believe. Gabriel had been a kind man, and he was still in there somewhere. He need only remember the few months he spent as a counterfeit member of the Petrelli family to know that was true. Killing Elle had been his attempt to bury Gabriel once and for all, but apparently _that_ hadn't even done its job. He remembered his dream, with Elle telling him he didn't really know why he had killed her. She had perturbed him greatly, trying to tell him what he did and didn't know, but it _had_ been a dream after all…it hadn't _really_ been Elle. Obviously his own mind was trying to tell him something he wasn't completely aware of, something Sylar was sure he had no desire to learn since it would only serve to further disrupt his resolve to be Sylar again.

But looking at Olivia he was still puzzled by the lack of hunger for her ability. He wasn't sure if taking her empathic mimicry would give him access to the empathy she possessed as well, and he didn't care, not even after the scene back at the motel. He hadn't been exaggerating when he told her how powerful the ability was. Logic versus emotion, which was the more influential? Sylar already knew the answer. No matter the amount of thought a person put into something, no matter how much they have rationalized an idea or action…emotion would win out every time. It was the reason he denied feeling _anything_ whenever he could. Emotion made a person weak, and lately he had been feeling eerily reminiscent of a wet noodle, even before meeting her.

A tiny hope had been developing in him since yesterday, wondering if they were meant to discover one another at a time when he was trying to figure out what direction to head in, figuratively speaking. He saw it in her right away, that she too was unsure of where she was heading and the idea that he would influence her was still causing him considerable distress. He didn't want to be responsible for anyone, not even himself most of the time which he assumed was one of the reasons he had allowed himself to trek down the path of destruction he had been on in the first place. Relinquishing restraint in favor of freedom of choice just proved so much enviable than self control. Yet in the end, no matter the choices he made that shaped his questionable past, there was no way in hell he wanted to form some one else into the same type of person time and isolation had molded him into. The surest way to avoid _that_ was to ditch the woman and continue on his own, but that was the one thing he was almost positive he didn't want to do.

"Where are we?" Olivia asked quietly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Sylar started at the sound of her voice. "Newark." He informed her.

"Again? What's in Newark?" She gave a small yawn, making him want to do the same.

"My father's house." He said turning to look out the window up the street.

She followed his eyes to a weathered building with an unkempt lawn and a sign swinging slightly in the breeze. "Taxidermy?" She cocked an eyebrow, no hint of condescension in her tone.

"Yeah." He answered, his voice deep.

"Interesting." She added lightly. "Do you do taxidermy too?"

He twisted his neck to look at her and before he let the initial defensiveness punch through he reminded himself that she knew _nothing_ about him and didn't realized the ridiculousness of the question. Composure returned to him after a few seconds and he felt even enough to answer.

"No…I've never met him actually." He revealed.

"Oh." Her eyebrows came together in disbelief and bewilderment. "So…you thought this would be a good time to meet him?" She asked innocently.

"He's not here." Sylar responded turning to look at the house again.

"Well, you're just a wealth of information aren't you." Olivia opened her mouth to say something else, but closed it quickly as she thought of a better way to find out what she wanted to know.

"Don't…_even_…think about it." Sylar warned still looking out of the car window.

"How did you…"

"Why wouldn't you? I'm sure you're just itching to use your abilities…now that you know what you're capable of." He turned to her with a cautioning glare. "But I wasn't joking earlier, it's dangerous…"

"I wasn't gonna…"

"I know what you were going to do, but reading emotion can be just as detrimental to your well being as useful to whatever situation you're in. Sometimes you find out things you don't want to know and those things can't be unlearned, not matter how hard you try…do you understand?" Sylar looked her right in the eye and didn't break the stare as he waited for her to respond.

Olivia followed his logic, but felt that there was much more behind the statement than he was letting on, he was being undeniably mysterious. Still she couldn't completely understand why he was cautioning her against the use of her abilities when he clearly had no qualms about using his own…unless he had an ulterior motive, something to do with what he wasn't telling her. It occurred to her that they were very much alike in that aspect of their personalities, they both liked to hide. For now she was resigned to letting him come clean in his own time, the same respect she had given everyone else in her life.

"Olivia." He pressed.

"Yes, I understand Sylar. But…" She bit her lip, uncertain whether or not to go on.

"What?" He insisted.

The uncertainty didn't arise from fear of his response. It grew out of the fact that she didn't _actually_ _have_ any real concern over revealing things about herself to him. While in the past she never found sharing as cathartic as it seemed everyone else did, with him it was different…easier somehow.

"I just…" she looked down into her lap as her fingers played with a loose thread on the hem of her t-shirt, "it's been such a long time, not knowing what this was, not knowing how to control it…or if I was going crazy imagining that I could do this…this _thing_. I felt like it was consuming every thought every second of every day for _so_ long. I couldn't understand why this was happening to me and eventually I just accepted that I would always feel like that."

"Like what?" Sylar asked in a low voice.

"Lost…outcast…separated from the very few people that I care about because I couldn't stand not feeling like myself anymore. But now…it feels good to do something, _anything_ with it…to know that it has a purpose." She finally looked up at him and her breath hitched at the expression on his face.

His mouth was pulled down into a sad frown and his eyebrows sank to frame his eyes with pity. When she had said the word _outcast_ a million pictures flew through his mind. The image of himself as Gabriel wouldn't disappear on it's own after that, and he didn't instinctively try to push it away like he normally would. That was when he knew what he had to do, what he _wanted_ to do. The Elle in his dream had been right; he did often wish he could go back to when everything was simple. None of them could really return to the times before their abilities manifested, but he didn't have to leave her alone to figure out how absolutely a person could be destroyed by them.

"Olivia…"

"I thought you said your father wasn't home." She said unexpectedly while staring through the windshield.

"What?" Sylar whipped his head toward the house, and sure enough he noticed slight movement behind the curtain in one of the front windows.

"More agents?" Olivia suggested nervously.

"I don't think so." Sylar thought for a second before peeking out the corner of his eye at her.

She looked at him too, almost reading his mind. "It doesn't feel like them. I'm pretty sure it's only one person actually. I don't know how accurate…"

"Good enough for me." Sylar undid his seat belt.

"Wait, are we going in?" Olivia asked surprised.

He didn't answer directly but did have instructions for her. "_Don't_ use your empathy to project only use it to sense the surroundings. If you need to protect yourself, use the telekinesis. Anything else, I'll take care of…ok?"

"Ok." She agreed, her voice shaking a bit.

They walked at a casual pace across the street, Olivia keeping a very short distance between Sylar and herself. She watched as he jiggled the locked door knob and almost let a sigh of relief escape her lips, until he miraculously opened the door without use of any sort of tool that she had observed. The bafflement must have shown on her face because he answered her unasked question.

"Telekinesis. I moved the parts inside the lock to open it."

"Without being able to see it?" She whispered just as he had.

He half smiled with a raised eyebrow. "I told you earlier, I understand things most people can't." Holding his finger up to his lips he gave a quick shush before quietly opening the door into a living room that reeked of stale smoke.

Olivia breathed deep, savoring the smell and being revolted by it at the same time as she recalled the last time a cigarette had touched her lips. Sylar was in front of her and moved deeper into the room, leaving the door open a crack. Olivia moved to follow as she felt the need to stick close to him return when something else drew her attention. She gasped, the sound making Sylar turn to her at once with wide expecting eyes.

"What is it?" He said very quietly as he made his way over to her. "Are you gonna…."

"No, I'm ok. It's just…whoever's in here is pretty scared…and angry." Olivia put her hand over her heart trying to quell the invading emotions.

Sylar grabbed her gently by the upper arms. "Don't let the emotions overwhelm you. Just because you've gained some control doesn't mean you have to let them in," he counseled, "push them out if you need to. I told you…" Before Sylar could finish he caught movement through the doorway of the kitchen and started toward it without a second thought.

"Sylar." She tried to catch the sleeve of his shirt but missed.

As soon as he entered the kitchen he stopped and looked over the space. The place looked like it had been sitting uninhabited for more than just a few days seeing nothing but a mess of dirty dishes, tools and more mounted animals. But there was no one there that he could see. He heard a noise behind him and turned with his hand raised ready for anything only to find Olivia standing very still right behind him. She was looking past him, her eyes getting bigger by the second.

Before Sylar had the chance to turn back around a voice broke the silence, one he was not thrilled to hear.

"Sylar." The voice was hard and accusing.

Sylar responded over his shoulder, still keeping his eyes on Olivia whose face was contorting with uncertainty. "Peter."

***

"Honey, who is Luke Campbell?" Sandra followed after her daughter, Mr. Muggles close at her heels.

"It's one of the names that Angela gave me. She suggested I go there first." Claire responded as she padded up the stairs.

"Where?" Sandra asked.

"New Jersey."

"Claire, _New Jersey_! You can't go to New Jersey; it's on the other side of the country." Sandra's voice raised a few octaves as she tried to reason with her daughter.

"I know Mom." Claire agreed. "But I have to go, I have to find him and tell him what's going on…help him, remember." Claire yanked her suitcase out of the closet and began stuffing clothing into it.

Sandra was not backing down. She had agreed that Claire should follow her instinct, but to New Jersey? "Honey…honey stop, please." Sandra grabbed Claire by the wrists, forcing her to look at her.

Claire became agitated and pulled herself free from Sandra's grasp. "Mom, you just said…" She began to argue.

"Yes I know what I just said…and I'm not changing my mind, yet. But you can't just pack a bag and hop on a plane Claire. Those agents are watching you, waiting for you to do something wrong, _anything_. You can't exactly walk out the front door while the sun is shining and expect to get past them without a fight." Sandra knew she was getting to her when Claire's shoulders fell and her lips started to form a pout.

"Mom…" She started, but didn't know what to say. She knew her mother was right, but she also knew she had to leave.

"Claire honey," Sandra comforted, "you need a plan. One that doesn't involve getting nabbed by the government before you make it out of the driveway." She squinted her eyes and smiled. "I have an idea."


	12. Chapter 12

I don't own heroes, but I have considered selling my soul for the rights :)

Thank you to those of you who have taken the time to review. Know that I am very appreciative and glad to know that you are enjoying the story. I wanted to add that Luke was not one of my favorite characters, but I decided to include him for more than one reason, which will become evident soon enough, even a little bit in this chapter. So those of you wondering why I sent Claire after him, be patient.

Otherwise, review if the mood strikes you, and if not then enjoy the chapter non the less!

Chapter 12

Matt knew he didn't want to open his eyes, but couldn't help himself and as soon as he did he regretted it. Blood from a cut on his forehead trickled into his eye, momentarily blinding him. A painful hiss escaped his lips as he squeezed his right eye shut again. Next to him Maggie was moving in the driver seat, but he had no idea if she was hurt since he hadn't been able to bring himself to look over at her fearing she might be seriously injured.

"Maggie?" He managed to croak, leaning his head back and cringing at the pain in his neck.

"I'm ok. Are you?" She asked. "Matt?"

"I think I'm ok…my forehead…" Matt tenderly poked at the area above his eye, his fingers coming away smeared with blood.

With his left eye he scanned the surroundings finding a red smudge on the window where he must have hit his head when the two vehicles collided. Relief washed through him, knowing the wound wasn't serious enough to have cracked his skull if the window had managed to remain intact. Through the glass he took in the scene of the wreck. The other vehicle was a large black box truck with no markings of any kind. They had slammed right into the front passenger tire of Maggie's car pushing it to the other side of the intersection and rendering it unmovable. The driver of the truck appeared to be slumped over the steering wheel and Matt's first instinct was to jump out of the car and make sure everyone else was ok…until he noticed what the man was wearing.

"Maggie," he started weakly, "we…we have to get out of here."

"What…I…my seatbelt is stuck." She replied sounding rattled and disoriented.

Strength slowly began returning to Matt's muscles as he turned and yanked on the belt as hard as he could, but it wasn't letting go. He gave a quick glance back at the other vehicle, but the man in the driver seat still had not moved which gave Matt a little bit of comfort, no matter how morbid the thought might have been.

"Do you have a knife in here?" Matt asked her, regaining some clarity.

"No. Matt, what are you doing?" She asked nervously.

Matt reached for the door handle and pushed. The door swung open and bounced back almost closing on him. "I have to find something to cut the belt off of you."

"Matt, wait!" Maggie yelled as he let the door close behind him.

He staggered away from Maggie's car and wiped the blood from his eye as best he could. The entire time he never took his eyes off the driver of the truck, waiting for him to twitch, moan…anything. His heart pounded in his chest as he circled around the side of the truck, and it skipped a beat when the back door swung open and a man tumbled out falling to the ground. Matt froze immediately.

Maggie reached back feeling the bump beginning to form on her head and tried to watch Matt as he made his way over to the other car. She noticed a man dressed in what looked to be swat gear, right down to the pistol she could make out that was strapped to his waist.

"Oh my god." Maggie whispered to herself in horror thinking they had just collided with police, the very people Matt was so intent on staying away from.

She began clawing at the seatbelt, willing the latch to give. The man slowly got to his feet and Maggie watched Matt just stand there not moving or making any attempt to either help the man or flee from him.

Matt turned back to look at Maggie still trapped in the car and could only give thanks that she wouldn't be in any immediate danger from the agent once he realized who Matt was. Then he heard the only thing that could have moved him into action. It was faint, but it was there.

_Matt, where are you? Help me…Matt._

"Molly!" Matt shouted not caring if he drew the attention of every single agent still in the truck.

The agent outside turned to the loud voice and though still in a daze had enough of his wits to draw his weapon and aim it at the bleeding man in the middle of the street.

"Don't move!" The agent yelled.

Matt's thoughts were bent on the tiny voice he could hear in his head pleading for him to help her. He focused all of his strength on the agent then, forcing him to lower his weapon.

_Get the girl. Bring her out then lock the doors from the outside._

Maggie, still struggling with the seatbelt, witnessed the man drop his gun to the ground and turn away from Matt as he stepped back inside. A few seconds later he reemerged carrying a visibly frightened little girl.

"Molly!" She breathed out in shock.

The agent slowly walked over to Matt's outstretched arms and gently placed Molly into his grasp.

_Give me your knife._

The agent bent down lifting his right pant leg to reveal a long serrated blade. With each second that passed Maggie became more frantic and confused, and when she saw the knife she couldn't stand it anymore.

"MATT!" She screamed.

He paid her no attention, keeping what little focus he had on the agent in front of him. The man straightened up and held the knife out to Matt, handle first. He shifted Molly in his arms and took the knife from the agent.

_Go to the back of the truck. Stand guard. Don't let anyone out and don't call for back up._

Without a word the agent turned toward his vehicle and disappeared around the back. Matt whirled around to face Maggie. Her expression must have been horrendous because Matt hurried around to the driver side yanking the door open while still holding onto the girl.

"Here, cut the belt off." He thrust the knife into Maggie's shaking hands.

She didn't waste anytime sawing at the fabric that kept her trapped inside the damaged vehicle.

"Hurry up." Matt insisted as he stroked Molly's hair whispering comforting words into the stupefied child's ear.

Maggie finally broke free and tossed the knife onto the passenger seat of the car.

"No, bring that. We might need it." Matt barked at her.

"Matt…"

"Just grab the knife Maggie, please!" He was adamant.

She begrudgingly acquiesced. "We have to call the police." Maggie said, sounding like a broken record, as Matt started walking away.

"Are you insane!? Maggie did you not just see that man pull Molly out of the back of _that_ truck!?" Matt pointed an accusing finger at the vehicle.

Behind him he could hear the thoughts of the agents still inside. They were starting to regain consciousness one by one and he was positive he didn't have enough energy to hold them all off long enough to escape. He stepped toward Maggie with a seriousness in his eyes that she couldn't look away from.

"This is the danger I was talking about. These men are from the government. They broke down the door of that house and took a frightened child against her will! These bastards are lucky I'm not…" Matt stopped himself from saying too much as they were incredibly vulnerable out in the open as they were.

"Matt?" Molly whispered against his neck as she began to come out of the shock the accident had caused.

"It's ok honey, I'm here." He cooed to her as he glared at Maggie, who still seemed reluctant to move.

A million thoughts raced through her mind. Her instincts told her to trust Matt, to get the hell out of there as fast as they could. But all of her years as a civil servant commanded that she follow the rules and possibly risk putting Matt and Molly in even more danger than they already seemed surrounded by. In the end her instincts won out and she stalked toward Matt reaching out for the scared girl in his arms. Matt was unenthusiastic about handing her over.

"You want to get out of here or not. Here, take the knife and give me Molly." Maggie offered.

He almost had to pry Molly's arms from around his neck and his heart ached as she whimpered at having lost her hold on him. "It's ok Molly. Hang on to Maggie here."

Matt took the knife, slipping it into his belt and began walking down the road away from the crash. A few onlookers had gathered on their porches and fearing one of them had already called the cops, who were but a few blocks away, he made a sharp detour down a narrow alley finding a few cars parked along the sides.

"Come on." Matt called over his shoulder to Maggie as she struggled to keep up without jostling the girl too much.

"We're stealing a car!?" Maggie shrieked.

"Do you have a better idea?" Matt shot back.

"…No…" Maggie admitted.

For a second it looked like Matt was rethinking his intention, until he picked up a rock ready to hurl it through the driver side window of a green four door.

"Wait!" Maggie exclaimed.

"Maggie…"

"Wait, just…grab hold of the handle, pull up and kick the door…right there." She motioned to a spot on the door not far below the handle.

Matt looked at her like she was as insane as he felt, but decided to listen to her anyway. When the door popped open he jerked his head toward Maggie with a look of utter astonishment on his face.

"How…"

"I guess you aren't the only one with a…talent." She admitted sheepishly. "Now are we leaving or not?" Maggie rounded to the passenger side waiting for Matt to unlock the other doors.

She buckled Molly into the back seat of the car before getting in herself just as Matt was ripping wires out from under the steering wheel. Though completely distracted by what Maggie had just said all of Matt's experience as a cop didn't fail him as he hotwired the car and the engine roared to life. He slammed the door, shoved the car into drive and sped off down the alley.

***

Angela was feeling rather pleased with herself as her town car traveled down the busy city streets. Her conversation with Claire hadn't gone better than expected, but it had been amiable. Claire wanted a purpose, and Angela needed a tool to help her fix the quandary she now found herself in.

The moment Nathan had left the house she knew there would be a lot of thinking to do on her part. It was inevitable that Nathan would get a hold of Olivia; her dream had told her as much. The decision to send Peter to Sylar had been made in an effort to help fulfill the prophetic dream, but that was before she knew the ability of the woman standing at Nathan's right hand.

In all of her years working at the company she'd only had occasion to capture two specials with true empathy, and neither one had been convinced to join them and be trained as agents. Kaito and Bob had been a bit relieved, fearing the strength of such an ability, but Angela remembered being disappointed. It was true that neither of the two were especially desirable candidates since they were captured because of their failure to either control the ability, or aspiration to use it in an objectionable manner. But could some one with such a power be convinced to exercise it for an actual purpose, they might be near unstoppable. It was the same argument she would have with Bob so many years later when they discussed Matt Parkman's' fate. Angela had pressed for Matt to be transitioned into the company, especially after knowing what an asset his father had been in the past, before his insane decision to join her late husband at the now destroyed Pinehurst.

Thinking on it she realized how right Kaito and Bob had been all those years ago, and how terrible a choice it had been to send Peter to Olivia and Sylar. Olivia was a key player now that Nathan had set his sights on her. He would stop at nothing to convince her to join his crusade, and with Peter standing in the middle it could certainly end badly for Angela's youngest son. While it had been her intention to help the scene in her dream come to fruition now it seemed _that_ was anything but a good idea.

Though she did not actually believe Peter's life was in _immediate _danger, she knew that Claire would bite at the chance to help him in anyway possible. The girl was young, impressionable, thick headed like her father and overly optimistic like her uncle. She was perfect for the job. Of course Angela realized that Claire would never follow her instructions to the letter, in fact she had counted on it. Telling Claire the names of people in danger was just the tip of the iceberg. When she mentioned the name and location of Luke Campbell she had basically forbid Claire to start there, hoping that she would take the opportunity to defy Angela while still accepting the responsibility she so desperately craved.

Luke's ability of microwave emission was a indeed dangerous, and from what the company had been able to learn of the teenager, before Meredith had burnt it to the ground, he had been having a hard time and might have been nearing a breaking point. That was only one reason why Claire was oh so perfect for the job. Not only would she be invulnerable to any slip ups the boy might have, but she was his age and a very attractive girl so convincing the boy to listen to her wouldn't be a difficult task. Not to mention that Luke Campbell lived two houses down from the very place Angela had sent Peter. Sending Claire to Peter was one of the only ways she could think of to help protect him against any ill affects her meddling might have caused, as well as changing the dynamic of the game. Claire hated Sylar and throwing her into the mix just might help the future to change course and minimize any chance of the dream actually coming true, or at the very least altering it in some way.

As Angela reflected on the events of the past two days she was not overly concerned with the ways her management of the situation had gone a tad awry. Manipulation was an art form, one she had perfecting for years. If she threw in the towel every time one of the choices she made in regards to controlling certain circumstances had been off target, she never would have made it as far as she had. But she was much more determined than most, and would not give up so easily. If Nathan insisted upon his course of action, then Angela had finally decided which team she wanted to be a member of. Keeping Olivia out of his hands would have to be her number one priority from now on.

She reached into her hand bag, pulling out her cell phone. The name Noah Bennet appeared on her screen and she hit the send button. She would need help from the inside and since it was Nathan she was about to betray, there was only one other person she could count on, Claire's _other_ father.

***

Claire stood in the middle of her room staring at the packed bag on her bed. She took a look around trying to remember things she may have forgotten but couldn't think of anything at the moment. She heaved a frustrated sigh and plopped down on her bed next to the bag grabbing the only stuffed bear she had allowed to remain on display in her room after packing the rest of them away in her closet. It seemed like such a long time ago that her father had brought home the last bear he would give her, before she knew anything about abilities or serial killers or the company…and now the government. She hugged the bear tight as she thought of her father, Noah. To say that she missed him would be an understatement, but so would to say that she had forgiven him for all that he had done and what he was doing now. Her only solace was in the thought that soon she would be on her way to helping Peter stop her other father, Nathan.

Angela had made it clear that Peter was on a mission to find others like him to go against his brother, but he couldn't do it alone, and he might not survive the fight. There was no way she could turn down the very opportunity she had been begging for, the chance to prove that she was useful, that she wasn't just a victim. It was her responsibility now to make sure that Peter had all the assistance he needed, even if he wasn't directly aware that he had help. After all, Angela hadn't actually told her where Peter was; just that finding these other people would help him…save him.

Downstairs her mother was making phone calls, buying a plane ticket for the first available flight to New Jersey and putting it under her own name. Claire pulled out the id that her mother had just finished forging for her. She had been astonished really, she never knew her mother could do things like make fake id's, much less have enough bravery to be involved in a scheme that went against the United States Government, but Sandra was full of surprises Claire supposed. The fact that Sandra was being so helpful in her escape plan only made Claire feel that much more guilty about having lied to her. Both of the other people Angela had mentioned lived far closer to Costa Verde than New Jersey, one of them was actually in Los Angeles. But the fact that Angela had specifically instructed her to visit Luke Campbell last sent a surge of resentment through her that she just couldn't ignore. The woman had some nerve, lying to everyone all the time, always pushing her own agenda…Claire was tired of it and she would stick it to her anyway she could. It would be an empty victory since Angela would never really know that she had disobeyed her order, but Claire would know and that was enough to prove that while she was obviously a means to an end in her grandmother's eyes, she still had a mind of her own and would use it to make better choices than Angela ever had.

"Hey." A voice came from just outside the half open door.

Claire looked up to see her brother standing there looking a little sad. "Hey Lyle, what's up?"

"You leavin?" Lyle asked looking down at his shoes.

"Uh…yeah, I am." Claire hesitated, wondering where the sudden interest in her activities was coming from.

"Oh. Well, good luck I guess." Lyle turned to walk back down the hall to his room.

"Lyle wait!" Claire called after him as she jumped off her bed.

Claire pulled the door the rest of the way open and faced her brother who just couldn't seem to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry Lyle."

At this he looked up with a surprised expression. "For what?"

"For…for everything. Dad's gone, we can't leave the house without being followed by a big black van, Mom is…"

"I don't blame you Claire." Lyle stopped her.

"Well…maybe you should." Now it was Claire's turn to look at her shoes. "I just wanted to say…I'm just sorry is all." Then she did something that surprised the both of them, she hugged him.

For a second Lyle didn't move, then he brought his arms up behind her shoulders and squeezed back. "Don't be Claire; it's not your fault. Just be careful ok."

"Sure Lyle, I'll be careful." They parted and Lyle continued on down the hallway.

Claire watched after him feeling regret. Not because she felt guilty about how all of this affected him, but because for so long she had resented him for having the opportunity to be normal, to be anything but special. Now she was going to leave him behind, her brother. It occurred to her then how much she would miss him, how much she would miss everything, especially her mom. It was starting to sink in finally, the enormity or what she was about to do. When she had told her mother that if she did this there would be no going back she heard herself saying the words, but hadn't comprehended their meaning just yet. It was becoming glaringly obvious that Claire might never see her home or her family again. If she succeeded who knew how long the fight would last, what sort of lengths they would have to go to in order to stop Nathan…and if they failed then that would be the end of it…lights out…game over.

"Claire!" Sandra shouted from downstairs.

"Yeah, I'm coming!" She called back to her mother.

With what could possibly be the last chance she had, she took one more look around her room, grabbed her bag, turned off the lights and closed the door.


	13. Chapter 13

I don't own Hereos :(

Thank you again to the readers and reviewers! I was going to wait to reveal more about Olivia, but have decided that the story might flow better if you guys weren't always in the dark about what was going on. Don't worry, next chapter will deal with Gabriel, Olivia and Peter so you won't have to keep wondering what is going to happen next there.

Enjoy!!!!!

Chapter 13

"When she was 15 she broke her ankle walking down the front steps to catch the school bus…" Tina had been spewing out inconsequential mundane details about her daughter's life for over a half hour.

Nathan seemed to have the patience of a saint as he quietly sat listening to the woman talk about her daughter without actually having revealed anything particularly useful. He was content enough to let her continue rambling at first, thinking she would quickly run out of steam. Unfortunately for Nathan she had more tidbits of pointless information than he could have guessed. It made him wonder how long his own mother would be able to go on like this.

When Nathan abruptly stood from his chair Tina snapped her mouth shut. Nathan's expression was blank as he stared at her. She knew then her game was over, but was surprised at how long he had let it continue. Without a word Nathan turned and headed for the door causing a surge of panic to rush through his prisoner.

"Wait!" She called to him, half rising from her chair.

"What? Are you going to tell me how she lost her first tooth, or maybe about her first date? I'm sorry Tina but I don't have time for games." He spoke in a very professional manner, void of any discernable emotion and continued to the door.

"She swallowed the first tooth she lost in the middle of the night and she's never been on a date!" Tina added quickly, before Nathan could leave.

At that he halted and turned to face the woman. His eyebrows came together in confusion as he searched her face for any hint of a lie. The statement was odd, but intriguing.

"Never been on a date?" Nathan queried.

"No…she…she doesn't trust easily. It was always hard for her to make friends." Tina admitted.

"Because of her ability…" Nathan assumed.

"No, she's been that way almost her entire life. The ability had nothing to do with it." Tina corrected.

Now he knew they were getting somewhere. "Why?" He asked.

Tina turned her head and pursed her lips, wishing she hadn't divulged the information so freely in an effort to keep him from leaving. She wanted her daughter to have a chance at some sort of life, and if that meant providing assistance to the government on this matter then Tina was willing to make that choice for Olivia. But Nathan wanting to know everything about her was another story. Pertinent information was one thing, but there were events in her past, in anybodys past, that should remain their personal secret to tell, this was one of those events.

Finally Tina huffed out the breath she had been holding and looked again at Nathan. "When Olivia was five we lived in Pennsylvania, a city called Bethlehem…"

Olivia and David's parents had been friends for years, since Olivia's older sister was born. The two children lived next door to each other since before either of them had been old enough to form memories. They grew up forced to play together by their parents who assumed the two children being of the same age should form a friendship of some sort, and they did, as children of that age often make friends without prejudice. Both of them were even in Mr. Elmer's afternoon kindergarten class together. They lived in a nice neighborhood where the worst crime to occur was underage drinking at the park across the street from their houses. What made the area even more agreeable was that any parent with a kid under the age of 12 had a built in babysitter as Olivia and David's teacher lived on the block and would often spend Saturday afternoons over at the park with the kids which afforded their parents a nice break from the chaos. The kids loved him as he would push them on the merry go round and the swings, make sure they didn't fall off the slide when they attempted to run up it instead of slide down it, and always carried a tube of Neosporin and a pocket full of band aids for when some one got a scrape or cut. Olivia's sister Kyra was nine years her senior and couldn't be bothered with the youngsters as she had important mall loitering to do on the weekends.

It was a Sunday in April when Olivia had tapped on David's front door and asked his mother if he could come outside. Of course neither his mother nor David had any objections and they both ran off to the playground to spend the late afternoon. Disagreements between the two children were not uncommon, and that day was no different. Olivia wanted to go on the swings and David wanted to use the sliding board. The activities were at opposite ends of the playground area, and while it was not overly spacious there were quite a few trees obstructing the view from one end to the other. Their parents always told them to stay together when they were over there, not to wonder off and lose each other. But they weren't concerned about those sorts of things, they were children.

The sun had started to sink down beneath the tops of the trees signaling the five year old Olivia that it was almost time to go home. She hopped off her swing and scurried over to the slide to ask David to check what time it was on the cool new digital watch that his dad had bought him for his birthday in February. When Olivia rounded the last tree she looked for David, but he wasn't there. She turned to the merry go round but he wasn't there either. She yelled his name twice, then started chewing her nails as she got scared realizing that David wasn't around. Immediately she ran home to tell her mom that she couldn't find David over at the park. Her mom didn't look that worried and told her he was probably just hiding. Tina took Olivia back over to the playground and the two of them looked for David, Olivia thinking then that it was merely hide and seek. After about 15 minutes Tina hadn't been able to sense the boy anywhere in the area and began to feel her heart crawl into her throat as she realized the boy just wasn't there.

By the time nine o'clock came around Tina and David's mom Eileen had half the neighborhood either searching the park with flashlights or driving around in the vicinity looking for the boy in case he had just wandered off. The police waited until midnight to put out the amber alert when the boy still hadn't turned up.

The next two days Tina kept Olivia home from school since she wouldn't eat, or play, or talk really at all. Even with Tina's ability she hadn't been able to get her daughter to open up, she had barely been able to get a good sense of how she was felling. On the third day she had an idea and asked Mr. Elmer, Roy, to come over and try to talk to Olivia, get her to come out of the shell that had been hardening around her. Tina was at work, and instructed Kyra to stay home from school and keep an eye on Olivia until Roy came over in the early afternoon before his class.

As soon as Kyra let Roy in the door and Olivia heard his voice she scampered out of her room and ran to him wrapping her little arms around his legs. He laughed and smiled down at her before picking her up and taking them both over to the couch. Kyra returned to her room with a roll of her eyes leaving Roy to try and talk to the troubled Olivia.

After about an hour Kyra stopped the CD in her stereo to change the disc and could hear laughing from the living room. She went out to check on her and saw that her sister was actually smiling as Roy helped her color in her coloring book. He told Kyra that he would be taking Olivia with him to class that day, and Olivia nodded furiously in agreement.

The next two weeks Olivia slowly began acting like herself again, and Tina could finally get a read on what was going on with her youngest daughter. She found, not shockingly, that Olivia felt responsible for David being gone because they were supposed to stick together and Olivia hadn't done that. She could have gone on the slide with him, she liked the slide, but she was tired of always doing what David wanted to do so she stubbornly insisted that she wanted to go on the swings. In her naïve young mind it was all her fault. When Tina tried to talk to her about it she wouldn't say a word, just folded her arms and looked at the floor. Kyra had told Tina about how Mr. Elmer had gotten Olivia to laugh and color the day she went back to school so Tina thought it would be a better idea to have Olivia talk to some one she felt comfortable with, instead of forcing Olivia to open up to her.

It had become a regular event. Tina and her husband Tim would both leave for work, and before Kyra got the bus for school Roy would come over and keep an eye on Olivia before taking her to class with him in the afternoon instead of Olivia going to daycare for the morning. Then, three weeks after David's disappearance his body was found in a shallow hole about seven miles away from their neighborhood in a small patch of woods. Everyone was shocked. It was in the local papers that the boy had been kidnapped and killed, but it wasn't immediately released that he had been assaulted first. Tina insisted that Roy be there when Olivia found out, knowing how fragile she still was, even though a brightness had started to return to her eyes. At first Olivia didn't understand why David wouldn't be coming home. Tina, Tim and Roy had only told her that David was in a better place. It wasn't until later that night Olivia had been sneaking back out into the kitchen while her parents watched the news that she passed her sister's partially open bedroom door. Kyra was on the phone talking to a friend about David and had said something about the funeral. At that Olivia started wailing. She knew what a funeral was; it was when they buried you in the ground because you were asleep and couldn't wake up. Olivia hardly thought that was a better place than being at home with his mom. She retreated even farther into herself. Tina was coming undone by the fact that she then couldn't sense a single emotion coming off of her little girl even thought she was clearly overtaken by grief.

The visits by Roy didn't stop, they in fact increased. After school was over for the day Tina and Tim gave permission for Olivia to spend some time over at his house since he wasn't able to give her his full attention during class and Olivia had been anything but cooperative in the mornings. Again, slowly over the next week Olivia started talking again and Tina judged Roy Elmer to be a godsend to her daughter.

Exactly five weeks to the day that David had gone missing Olivia was drawing a picture in Roy's living room as he made grilled cheese in the kitchen. The crayon she had been using broke in half, and since she wasn't finished with the color she got up and made her way over to the cabinet where she had seen he kept his art supplies. On the bottom shelf she saw a big wooden box stained almost black. Carefully she opened it hoping to find a new box of crayons or maybe even some markers, but when she pulled the lid up and saw what was inside she didn't understand why he would keep it in the art cabinet. There were pictures of kids, necklaces, matchbox cars…and a digital watch. Olivia looked at it, and wanted to grab it and put it in her pocket to take home with her because she knew it was David's watch and looking at it made her smile. She knew stealing was wrong and she could get in big trouble if she took it and Mr. Elmer noticed it was gone, so she replaced the lid and closed the cabinet door.

The next day, a Saturday, Tina asked Olivia if she wanted to go over to the park together and Tina would push her on the swings. Olivia didn't want to go, she wanted to go over to Mr. Elmer's and look at David's watch again. Tina asked her what she meant and Olivia told her that she felt better after seeing that David's watch wouldn't be under the ground like he was. It didn't take long for Tina to comprehend what Olivia had inadvertently told her, and she immediately called the police knowing through Eileen that David's watch had been missing when they found him. Eileen had hoped it was just lost in the woods where he had been discovered and it would be founds and returned to her, but the police had a different idea about what could have happened to it.

Roy Elmer was arrested and charged with the sexual assault and murder of David Bellows. The more they searched his home they more evidence they found that he had been doing what he did for quite some time. The box Olivia had found contained the photos of over a dozen children, none of which had been indentified as living in the immediate area. Over the next few months it would come out that Mr. Elmer had a different name in almost every state he had lived in, and everywhere he had been there was either a missing child case or the unsolved murder of a child.

In October of that same year, three weeks before her birthday, Olivia had been required to give testimony in chambers during Elmer's trial. While he had never made Olivia one of his victims in anyway, she had spent almost everyday in his care during the five week period between the crime taking place and him being caught. It was Olivia's finding of the watch that had set it all in motion in the first place, and at the very least she was required to tell that story.

Tina was distraught over the entire ordeal and hated herself for leaving her child with the monster. She racked her brain trying to figure out how she of all people had not known she was trusting her child to some one like that, how she had not felt what kind of man he was. But thinking back on it she could hardly remember ever having been alone with the man, and on occasion when they were in the same room Olivia was always there and _she_ was Tina's main focus.

Elmer was convicted and sentenced to a life term for the crime before being extradited to another state to be tried for another murder of another child. Tina was afraid that Olivia would never recover after having lost her best friend because of the only person she had felt she could talk to about it. In December Tina and Tim learned they would be expecting their third child, and they made the decision to move away from that place in order to give their new baby, and Olivia, a fresh start. They settled in a town called Seekonk, Rhode Island, a place not unlike their last home.

"…It took a while, but Olivia got better, started talking and laughing again. She made friends with a girl down the street and it seemed she going to continue on like a normal little girl…as normal as we could expect her to be. I noticed changes in her; she didn't talk as much as she used to, she was so shy around other kids, she was very weary of strangers, especially male adults, and she never ever talked about David or Mr. Elmer. Not even when she was older. I once asked her if she ever thought about David. She just looked at me and asked 'who?' But I felt it, when I said his name I felt a blunt wallop of pain right to my chest like some one had hit me with a baseball bat. I never mentioned it again after that." Tina sighed and looked up at Nathan as she finished her story.

Nathan had taken his seat at some point and sat arms folded across his chest listening to every word Tina had said, wanting to absorb as much information as possible. Nathan felt sad after hearing the story. For anyone to have their childhood disrupted in such a horrible way was a thing of evil. At the very least however Nathan would better understand the kind of woman he endeavored to persuade.

"How about now?" Nathan posed.

Tina closed her eyes, knowing that she had given Nathan exactly what he wanted. "Like I said, she never talks about it. As she got older I think she forced herself to forget by offering herself up as a shoulder to lean on to anyone she knew that needed it, her way of keeping from thinking about her own problems."

"But you're her mother, she never confided in you?" Nathan probed, wanting to know more.

"In ways." Tina looked sadly at her lap. "If it weren't for my ability I'm afraid I wouldn't know half as much about the inner workings of my daughters heart as I do."

Nathan looked at his watch. He had been talking with Tina for quite some time, but didn't feel that he was done just yet. He had one more question. "Of what you _do_ know, would you say that if some one gave her the opportunity to help stop people who hurt others, or help save people from being hurt…would she take it?"

Tina knew her answer would solidify her daughter's future roll in Nathan's plan, and keep her from enduring the kind of confinement she feared might mentally destroy her child. She saw this as a way to make up for the terrible decisions she had made all those years ago when she could have saved Olivia from the events that would change her from the inside out.

"Without a doubt." Tina responded simply, no longer looking at Nathan as he rose from his seat with a satisfied nod of his head.

"Thank you Tina." He said as he opened the door. "When we _do_ find her, I'll be sure to let you two have a reunion…if that's something you think would be helpful to her."

Tina merely nodded as she sat feeling a little more than guilty and nervous about her daughter's immediate future.


	14. Chapter 14

I don't own Heroes

I apologize profusely for the time it took me to post this chapter. I must admit that I have been sucked into watching Lost from the beginning...among other pressing matters. I will post the next chapter as soon as possible. Enjoy!!!

Chapter 14

Olivia's eyes moved spastically between the two men. The distinctive look on Sylar's face as he remained planted in front of her was one she didn't need an ability to interpret. A mixture of fierceness and disquiet narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. It was a guise she couldn't recall having seen on him up until that point. And yet still she was not scared, not like she knew she ought to have been. All things considered she felt more than safe at the moment, it was a luxury she hadn't experienced in a _very_ long time, one she felt she owed to the man in front of her. Sylar's presence seemed to have the opposing affect on her as it had on Peter. He remained static, sporting a mask of repugnance, hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles were white, almost certainly holding his breath, and not to mention the thick waves of hostility that rolled off of him inducing in her a rather unwelcome queasiness.

She grasped for anything to break the tremendously unpleasant silence. "Peter? Like the one who _isn't_ your friend, Peter?" She calmly directed at Sylar.

He opened his mouth to answer but Peter beat him to the punch. "What did he tell you about me?" Sounding a bit more forceful than he anticipated.

At that Sylar turned slowly around to face him. "What do you want, _Peter_?" He spit the name out like saying it offended him.

Peter had to inhibit himself from reacting with and equal amount of antipathy since doing so would impede any attempt at recruiting Sylar to his cause. He needed him docile, not wound up…he needed Gabriel; he needed to appeal to whatever integrity there might be left in him. Peter looked inquisitively at the woman figuring she must have been at the diner with Sylar, the one Lauren assumed had been a stranger to him prior to the incident. He still couldn't help but wonder why, if she was unacquainted with him at the time, would she have offered assistance to someone who, for all she knew, was a very dangerous person. Especially one who Peter had gotten the impression scared the customers more than the men with the guns…unless his ability didn't scare her because it wasn't anything she hadn't seen before…unless she had an ability too. It almost made him want to smile, knowing that people were coming together, however unintentional, to fight the enemy, even if one of the people was Sylar.

"You were at the diner together." Peter said looking at Olivia, completely ignoring Sylar's inquiry.

Sylar moved to block Peter's view of Olivia entirely when she placed what was meant to be a reassuring hand on his arm. As soon as she felt his tension crawling up her arm like a vine with a mind of its own she decided to abandon all concern for any inauspicious reaction he might have toward her using the empathy. She instantly assumed a feeling of calm and pushed it into him. He appeared much more relaxed, but not wanting to clue Peter into the fact that anything had changed he shot only a bothered look over at Olivia instead of scolding her as soon as she stepped up next to him.

"How do you know anything about the diner?" Sylar finally asked.

"I was there, talked to the waitress." Peter responded, not missing a beat.

"Oh yeah, Minnie Mouse. I'm glad she had an interesting story to tell. So what, you're following me Peter? I didn't think that was really your style, watching from the shadows. Better yet, how did you even know I was alive? I was under the amusing impression that _no one_ knew I was alive." Sylar was beginning to find the sarcastically friendly groove he loved being in.

That wasn't to say he was wholly vacated of concerns. Peter's sudden unexpected appearance flustered Sylar's already perturbed state of mind. He needed a way making sense of things, _and_ find out what Peter was up to. 20 questions was the only way he could see going about it without using intuitive aptitude, which would have been a very bad thing if Olivia accidently absorbed it. His other problem was the need to keep Peter from saying anything that might disturb Olivia, anything about his previously ongoing behavior. He needed to keep a cool head and was suddenly thankful that Olivia had disregarded his instruction to keep a lid on the empathy.

"My mother told me you were alive. She had a dream, you were in it." Peter answered plainly.

"Angela." Sylar hissed with so much venom Olivia could almost taste it.

"And I wasn't following you; I was trying to find you and just happened to pick up your trail. The truth is…I need your help." Peter leaned against the edge of the counter ignoring Sylar's inauspicious reaction toward his mother.

Olivia noted Sylar's genuinely surprised expression at Peter saying he was intentionally seeking him out for his help. She wasn't as stunned by it since she considered that with his abilities he certainly could be very helpful in any number of situations.

Sylar on the other hand was left searching for what to say in response. He was flabbergasted, to say the least, and fully had not expected those to be the words to come out of Peter's mouth. He assumed it would be something more along the lines of 'vengeance for what you did to Claire'…again…but it wasn't.

"And what could _you_ possibly want _my_ help for?" Sylar tried to sound as uninterested as possible, but feared he failed miserably.

Peter was encouraged by Sylar choosing to engage in the conversation and the fact that he had yet to attack him. What was even more promising in Peter's eyes was the way he had moved to protect the woman with a sort of chivalrous exploit, although he also could assume he was protecting her so he could steal whatever ability she possessed at some point in the near future. Peter chose to believe the aforementioned motivation as opposed to the latter simply because he _needed_ this to work out. The fact that she didn't seem at all frightened of him meant little, since Peter knew well of Sylar's ability to turn on the charm when necessary. Peter had been preparing himself for a fight, but it seemed he had finally caught a bit of a lucky streak.

"Sylar, those were government agents after you in the diner." Sylar just looked at Peter like he wasn't sure where he was going with this. "They aren't after just you…they're after all of us, even _innocent_ people."

Sylar scoffed. "Makes sense, they were bound to catch word of us sooner or later. I'm surprised it didn't happen a lot earlier, the way the company let things get so…out of control sometimes."

"The government!" Olivia exclaimed from Sylar's left side.

Both men were startled by her sudden joining of the conversation and turned their eyes to her. Sylar could see right away that she wasn't fully in control of herself and upon touching her shoulder could feel the vibrations of fear that were escaping her hold.

"Olivia…" Sylar started.

"I'm running from the government!? This is a joke right, you're joking!" She looked between Sylar and Peter with pleading eyes.

"Olivia!" Sylar shouted at her to get her attention while grabbing her by the shoulders. "You already knew you were being chased, what difference does it make who's doing the chasing. Just calm down." Her moment of panic subsided, making Sylar sort of appreciate his new role as the voice of reason.

"Is she ok?" Peter took a few steps forward, his hand outstretched in a non threatening manner.

"She's fine." Sylar shot back without hesitation. "Come on, let's sit down." He suggested to Olivia.

She nodded in agreement and led the way out of the kitchen to the couch in the living room. She brushed an old magazine onto the floor and sat down as she nervously began chewing her thumb nail. Sylar sat down next to her and Peter remained standing, shifting agitatedly from one foot to the other.

"Sylar, should we be here…" Peter questioned as he looked toward the front door.

"It's fine, nobody will come back here for a while I'm guessing." His attention was still on Olivia who now seemed the picture of composure.

He raised his eyebrows to her, silently asking about her state of mind.

"I'm fine, sorry." She whispered to him.

Sylar shook his head waving off the apology. Once he was convinced that Olivia retained control of herself he turned his attention back to Peter. "So, when did you plan on explaining to me what it is exactly that you were hoping to get me to do Peter? You know how giving a person I am." Sylar smirked at him.

"Nathan." Was all Peter said.

Both men suddenly took on a somber appearance. This caught Olivia's attention immediately since having felt nothing but a highly charged atmosphere of emotion since they had entered the house.

"Isn't Nathan your brother?" She inquired of Peter.

Neither Peter nor Sylar answered her at first, Sylar frowning at Peter, and Peter returning the look.

"Yeah, he's my brother." Peter finally admitted.

"You probably know him as _Senator_ Nathan Petrelli." Sylar added disgusted.

"Your brother…is Senator Petrelli from New York?" Olivia asked calmly, but not without a hint of reverence. "You didn't say he was a Senator." She lightly accused Sylar.

"Yeah." Peter answered with almost as much contempt as Sylar, but with a little sadness at the same time.

Everyone sat quiet for a moment as each of them let sink in the information they had just been presented with. Sylar more than anyone couldn't believe he had just walked into the situation just moments after resolving to lead Olivia down a different path than the one he had traveled. At the time he hadn't been sure what path that was exactly, but it was now becoming blindingly obvious.

Sylar was the one to break the silence. "I'm guessing we owe our thanks to your brother for having started this _thing_?"

Peter nodded.

"And you came to find _me_…for my help with what, stopping him?" Sylar asked sarcastically.

"They're rounding us up, without prejudice, and shipping us off to some containment facility. At least the company only went after the most dangerous of us, people like…"

"I'm well aware of who the company's favorite targets were Peter." Sylar interrupted before Peter could finish.

Sylar could feel Olivia's eyes on him. This whole exchange with Peter was definitely going to cost him at least an hour of sleep later on as it would mean a ton more questions from her that he really didn't want to answer, but it was too late now.

"Look, as much as it loathes me to have to do this…you are the strongest of us; you are the one nobody can catch. You've proven that time and time again. Nathan isn't going to stop, and he isn't the only one involved. There's a man named Danko who was brought on to assist Nathan with the project. He has military background and from what I know he is unyieldingly devoted to making sure their plan succeeds. I can't fight them alone...neither can you…and neither can anyone else. Not without help." Peter was beginning to sound very convincing to Olivia. He really believed in what he was saying, she could feel that much.

"And let me guess, you've volunteered to lead the crusade." Sylar provoked.

"I have a responsibility…we all do…including you." Peter defended.

Sylar chuckled. "Always the martyr, aren't you Peter."

"Why, are you gonna do it?" Peter glared at him.

Olivia thought Peter looked as if he was waiting for something to happen, but she couldn't even venture a guess as to what. She looked to Sylar, not sure what she was hoping to find. His expression betrayed very little of what he was thinking or feeling and she was just too unsettled to try and get a read on him. Peter's harsh tone and antagonizing words aggravated a sense of growing defensiveness for Sylar, and felt she needed to interject.

"Hey!" She pointed a finger at Peter and rose off the couch. "You know you seemed kind of nice before, but I'm starting to rethink my opinion of you." She knew confrontation was out of character for her, and she could tell it wasn't just her anger she was harboring.

"Olivia." Sylar edged toward getting off the couch himself and Olivia looked back at him.

"No, I don't think it's ok for him…for you," she turned back to face Peter, "to come into _his_ father's house and start talking about government plots and brothers who are United States Senators _and_ thinking that you're better because you…"

"Olivia!" Sylar stood up behind her, smiling at the outburst but also very aware that she could unintentionally affect them with her ability. Considering the amount of zeal she put into her speech he figured anger was probably not the best emotion for any of them to be taken over by just then.

Peter seemed almost hurt at her jab saying he thought he was better. "I thought you told her about me?" He asked wondering what Sylar could have said that would lead her to make a statement like the one she had just made.

Sylar shot a look up to Peter that said more than he intended.

"What exactly did you tell her Sylar?" Peter took a step forward as he finally comprehended why she had helped him in the diner, why she didn't seem afraid of him, and why she had just stood up for him; she didn't know any better.

"Peter." Sylar said his name trying to insinuate a level of caution.

Peter was tired, exhausted really. All he wanted to do was lay down right where he was and go to sleep for a few months. He had prepared himself for dealing with Sylar, but he had not been expecting a third party, one who knew very little about the world they lived in and apparently knew nothing about the psychotic serial killer standing right behind her. She was oblivious, and Peter didn't know if he had strength to deal with that on top of everything else. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"All I need to know from you is if I can count on your help. I don't need Sylar here, do you understand? I need Gabriel." Peter knew using his real name was not the best choice, but he didn't care.

Sylar tried to stop Peter before he said it but he was too quick. Olivia shivered at Sylar's anxiousness, but was already too baffled by the words being spoken around her to give it the attention it deserved.

"You know what, I give up!" Olivia threw her hands in the air and walked back to the kitchen out of ear shot of the men.

Sylar let her go and jumped at the chance to say some things he had held back saying before, but again Peter was just too quick.

"What the hell is going on here Sylar? That girl knows nothing…_nothing_ about you does she?" Peter had that look of undeniable seriousness on his face.

Sylar had been thinking about playing nice, but Peter always managed to bring the stubbornness out in him. "What she knows or doesn't know isn't for you to decide."

"No, it's for her to decide." Peter moved in the direction of the kitchen and Sylar automatically caught him with his telekinesis.

"You are not going in there." Sylar growled through clenched teeth.

"Sylar…"

"It might be too difficult for you to comprehend, but I'm not keeping her around to kill her and take her ability, though I know that's what you think." His voice and eyes remained menacing though he loosened his hold on Peter and allowed him to move back a few steps.

Peter had hoped that he was right, that Gabriel _was_ still in there…somewhere. Maybe his mother hadn't been so wrong in sending him there after all.

"Then what _are_ you doing?" Peter posed the very question Sylar had been trying to answer for the past few days.

Sylar stared at him knowing his baffled expression was betraying his lack of direction. He could only think of one answer just then, and he knew Peter would be surprised by it.

"I'm helping her because…because in the wrong hands…without the right influence…"

Before Sylar could even finish Peter was shaking his head. "Are you the right influence _Sylar_? Because I think there is definitely some one better suited for this than you."

At that Sylar moved himself directly between Peter and the kitchen doorway with his shoulders squared in an obvious defensive posture. No way was he going to let Peter anywhere near Olivia.

Peter, having understood the immediate reaction, sought to bring the conversation back down to a more affable level. "I didn't mean me." Peter said with a bit of a smirk.

Sylar was more than confused now. Peter always had kept him on his toes, but it was the honesty in his manipulation that he could never wrap his head around. Manipulation equals deceitfulness, but Peter managed to forever be telling the truth, and he would know after all. Peter was one of the only people Sylar felt could match him in wits if not ability…no one could match him in ability.

Peter waited a moment as he made his way to the front window before explaining to Sylar what he was getting at.

"You're a killer, a monster. We all know it. You don't care about anybody Sylar…but Gabriel…Gabriel could care." Peter spoke with his back to Sylar as he looked out the window having little fear that he would actually attack him now. "Gabriel did care; in the future…you cared about your son." Peter had been wondering whether or not to reveal the information, and seemed to have just made his choice as the words were coming out of his mouth.

Sylar stopped breathing. "Son?"

Peter turned to see the effect of what he had said and almost regretted having said anything. "Yeah…but the future is always changing so who knows what's slated to happen now…but yeah, you had a kid…and you called yourself Gabriel, not Sylar."

Peter didn't bother telling him how they had still thought they were brothers in that future, which they clearly were not, or about how the child ended up dying. None of that would have been useful just then. He needed Sylar to believe there was a future where he wasn't a mass murdering psychopath, but a father instead; a good man who had the capacity for real emotion, attachments, love for something besides his precious abilities…where he accepted his responsibilities instead of ignoring them, or worse destroying them.

While Peter turned back to watching out the window Sylars head was spinning. It was all a little too much. Every expectation he had for the encounter had crumbled over the last 15 minutes leaving him wondering if he had never made it out of bed that morning, if he was still asleep and dreaming. In some way Sylar had always believed in fate. He was sure nothing was set in stone, but that there were different paths to be taken. Once in a while some of the paths are blocked leaving only one way to go. Then sometimes there are open roads, and he had to decide which one to take. It seemed that he had always ignored the off chutes of his chosen course, but now the long dark trail he had been on for so long was impassible, and he had a choice instead of being directed. He knew what one would bring…find his father and see if he could unblock the original path, or he could follow Peter which only meant that he had no idea what to expect. Only that if Peter was right about the future, he would change…for the better. He thought of Elle's question in his dream and for the first time he wondered if she might have been right, that he had no idea why he killed her. At that moment he wasn't half as sure of himself as he had been three days ago. There was only on thing he had been even remotely sure about before the interesting exchange with Peter, and that was helping Olivia. Now it appeared that helping Peter might be his best chance at not only doing just that, but maybe helping himself along the way.

"Yes." Sylar mumbled.

Peter turned his head, not sure what Sylar had been responding to. "Yes what?"

"Yes…I'll help you." Sylar didn't necessarily enjoy the feeling of cooperation, but it had to be done.

Peter nodded once and frowned a bit knowing what he had to get Sylar to do next. "You have to tell her about who you are."

Sylar rolled his eyes and glared at his new comrade. "I will. But you can't go shooting your mouth off at any question she might ask that would lead her to finding out things on her own. _And_ you have to be careful about letting your hatred of me shine through too brightly, got it."

"Why?" Peter was curious.

"Because…" Sylar sighed heavily, "she has what you have, empathic mimicry. And one of her abilities is empathy. Much stronger than anything _you_ ever exhibited…at least that's what I heard." Sylar finished with his trademark grin.

Peter considered this a moment, knowing enough about empathy to trust him on this. "My lips are sealed." Peter agreed.

"Fine." Sylar half turned back to the kitchen and called for Olivia, but there was no answer.

The two men exchanged a worried look before stalking through the doorway into the kitchen only to find it empty.


	15. Chapter 15

I don't own Heroes

Before I get going here can anyone please help me. When trying to upload this chapter I was informed that there is a 15 document limit in the and that I should convert my documents to chapters...or something like that. What the hell am I doing wrong here cause...this baby is definately more than 15 chapters. Somebody please help me becuase I had to delete something just to post this chapter!

Anyway, sorry for the delay, I had no idea what to do when the site told me I had to many documents or whatever. Hope you all enjoy, review if you want, if not then thanks for reading!

Chapter 15

Danko shuffled papers inside his tiny office off the main hub of the operation. He had the opportunity to watch over all activities through the glass wall of the room, never wanting to miss a thing. There came a tapping on the glass and a nervous looking agent stood in his doorway holding a manila folder.

"What is it?" Danko asked.

"Sir, we had another incident." The agent answered dutifully.

Danko's head snapped up from his reading. "What happened?!" He demanded.

"The team sent to retrieve Molly Walker collided with another vehicle while en route back here Sir. Agent Murphy was driving, he was killed. The other men were unscathed…"

"When I asked what happened, I meant _where_ _is the target_?!" Danko's loud and aggravated tone of voice had the entire office full of workers staring in through his glass wall.

The agent fidgeted with the folder he was holding. "The girl is gone Sir. When the men woke up she was gone. One of the men, Agent…Davis," the agent consulted his file, "claimed that he gave the girl to a passenger in the car they hit."

"He_ gave_ her…" Danko could feel his blood pressure rising.

"Sir, Agent Davis says that the man told him to give the child to him. By the description he gave and the sequence of events that Davis described we are sure the man is Matt Parkman." The agent waited, hoping that having located one of the more dangerous targets would appease the wrath of his superior officer.

"_Parkman_." Danko grimaced.

"Should I inform Senator Petrelli, Sir?"

"No! No, I'll take care of that. I'm sure you have much more important things to do, like locating our missing target and her rescuer." He dismissed the agent with a scowling nod.

Danko was furious. If there was one thing he did not want to hand Nathan Petrelli it was a reason to further question the procedures of the operation. Danko was well aware of Petrelli's soft side, wanting to make sure people weren't going to get hurt, handing out free passes. He hated the man and losing the Walker girl was a major set back in his efforts to prove that his way wasn't just the _best_ way, but the _only_ way. It wasn't Petrelli's opinion he cared about, he wanted to show the higher ups what he was capable of, show the President that _he_ was the man for the job, not Petrelli.

The sad fact of it, however, was that these people were much more difficult to catch than he would have liked and with the Senator trying to play the part of dictator, he had little option but to continue biding his time until his chance to strike presented itself. His only concern was that Petrelli might actually come through with a more subtle way of conducting the operation before Danko could get his act together. The President had already voiced his trepidation regarding the American peoples perception of what was being done, should the information somehow find its way into the main stream media. Unless Danko could come up with satisfying results before Petrelli…then it would be game over. The only luck he had at the moment was that Nathan was so preoccupied with his own agenda that Danko's decisions on who to go after were not being as closely monitored as Nathan had originally intended. Danko knew exactly who he should be targeting next if he wanted a trophy head to hang on his wall, and the one man who could give him the most insight into the monster just so happened to have already been brought on board by Petrelli.

Danko leaned over looking out of the open office door and called out to anyone who was listening. "Somebody find Bennett and tell him I wanna talk to him…Now!"

***

Mohinder concentrated on his microscope, watching the red blood cells lazily drift around on the slide.

"What are you doing?" Daphne interrupted him from her bed.

Mohinder looked over his shoulder at her as she rubbed the sleep away from eyes. "Working." He turned back to the microscope and his notes.

"Since yesterday?" Daphne inquired with concern.

"Yes." He answered shortly.

Daphne tried to sit up and groaned in discomfort. Mohinder whipped his head back around and jumped off his chair grabbing a syringe and bottle as he made his way to her. Daphne shrank away from him as he filled the needle with the clear liquid from the glass bottle.

"It's morphine for the IV." Mohinder softened his expression as his muscles ached from holding the frown he had worn all since yesterday.

Being a scientist rather than a doctor he had never really developed any sort of decent bedside manner, and the last thing he wanted to do was make Daphne believe she couldn't trust him.

"For the pain, right?" Daphne suddenly asked as he injected the painkiller into her line.

Mohinder started at the question. "What else would it be for?"

Daphne turned away and it dawned on him what she was referring to. "Daphne…it is an unfortunate side effect but…"

"You call suppressing my ability an unfortunate side effect?!" Daphne demanded.

"I'm sorry. But _that_ isn't why I'm giving it to you. You're in pain and any pain medication I give you would have the same sort of effect, on a fluctuating scale. But a less effective medication would leave you in a greater amount of pain." He did his best to sound comforting.

Mohinder stood looking at her for a moment, hoping she would say something to vindicate the increased guilt he felt just then. The seconds ticked by and as he turned to go back to work Daphne reached out her hand and grabbed his wrist. She said nothing at first as they just stared at one another. He seemed so sad, and looked exhausted. She wanted to be mad at him, at anybody really, but it wasn't his fault. They were both in the same boat. The only difference between them was that he had something to offer in the way of cooperation and she was only valuable as a test subject, nothing more. No, she couldn't blame him.

"You should sleep Mohinder." She smiled kindly.

Mohinder halfheartedly returned the smile and placed his hand atop of hers. "I'm fine Daphne. I need to finish running your blood samples."

He placed her hand by her side and gently pulled his arm away as her eyelids became visibly heavy. In a few moments she would drift off into a morphine induced slumber and he would go back to peering into his microscope as he tried to keep himself from dozing off. He looked back at the tiny blond woman and realized how protective of her he was actually becoming. He didn't want to tell her the real reason he hadn't slept was that every time he closed his eyes he saw dreadful images of their friends in danger, unable to fight back because nobody can fight an enemy as big as this one. That, and if he left the lab it would mean leaving her there alone, and after everything that had happened he felt more than an obligation to watch over her, especially since there was no one else but him that would care enough to do it. For now they were alone together, speed and strength. As Mohinder went back to work an idea began to form in his head.

***

"Olivia!?" Sylar yelled.

Peter stepped around Sylar who was blocking the doorway to see for himself that she was gone.

"OLIVIA!?" Sylar called, edging on vexation.

"Out here." Olivias voice came through a partially open window facing the back yard.

Sylar shot out the door so fast Peter was surprised he didn't leave a trail of smoke behind him. The back door slammed shut leaving Peter alone in Samson Grays kitchen.

A hopeful sensation spread through his chest at seeing Sylars reaction to the briefly misplaced Olivia. He turned his thoughts then to the surprise he felt at the disarray of the house. Sylar was many things, but unclean never seemed to be one of them, clearly unlike his father. Peter couldn't help but look around; suddenly entranced by the mess belonging to the man that was half of Sylars DNA. He wondered what Sylar had learned about him, what kind of man he was since Peter's own father had turned out to be such a disappointment in the end. To his dismay he was forced then to remember how Gabriel had been affected by Arthur too…as well as the pain that must have grown from the abandonment of his adoptive father, and by the looks of it Samson wouldn't prove to be much more of a role model than the other two.

No matter his feelings toward Sylar, Peter couldn't bring himself to feel the same about Gabriel. The man had been manipulated so many times by so many different people for so many different reasons. Peter could relate to that somewhat, and the last thing he wanted was to be counted on the list of reasons why Gabriel became Sylar. It really did shock him, how alike he and Gabriel were when he thought about it. He knew exactly what it was like to feel the hunger of his ability. And though he tried his hardest to forget it, once in a while he could clearly recall the urge to slice the top of his mothers skull off and take her ability. The experience left him with nightmares and a new found, albeit unsolicited, respect for Sylars ability. In fact, it almost drove him to the point of amazement that Sylar didn't kill _more_ people with the urge as strong as it was. Peter hoped that the reason behind it was that Sylar had much more self restraint than anyone knew, although it was a frightening thought at the same time.

The murmur of voices through the window brought Peter back from his thoughts. He walked toward the sink full of grimy dishes and peered though the screen. There was nothing in his line of sight but he could hear them…and smell cigarette smoke. A chuckle rose in the back of his throat as he thought how utterly normal Olivia seemed to be. They were in the middle of discussing some seriously dangerous plans…and she takes a smoke break. He smiled at the fact that she was definitely important in all of this if only because Sylar had taken to watching over her it seemed. He showed actual human concern for her well being. He only hoped she would stick around after knowing who Sylar was and what he had done.

"What are you doing?!" Sylar demanded trying to sound angry.

Olivia twisted around from her seat on the bottom step and looked up at him. He certainly looked mad, but that wasn't what she was getting from him. Instead there was a wave of fear and worry that curled off of him. His reaction, surely meant to be intimidating, actually put her more at ease.

"Sorry, I just needed some air." She explained.

Sylar cocked an eyebrow and stared at the lit cigarette in her hand. "Air huh?"

Olivia blushed and hid the cigarette near her hip. "Yeah well…it tastes like crap if that's any consolation.

"Oddly enough it's not." Sylar sat down on the step above her, noticing that she automatically lightly leaned her shoulder against his knee. "You shouldn't wander off like that…"

"I didn't wander. I just came out back." She defended innocently.

"It's not safe." Sylar warned shortly.

"Didn't you tell Peter it was ok to be here? I mean if it isn't then we should leave right?"

Sylar listened to her tone finding nothing but honest curiosity and concern.

"No, it's fine…for now." Sylar answered.

"But how do you know?" She turned away from him and grimaced as she exhaled the non menthol smoke.

Sylar exhaled hard. "Because they were already here…a few days ago."

"You don't think they'll look for you hear again?" She took another drag and actually coughed a little this time.

"I don't think they'll expect me to come back here…so soon anyway." Sylar looked away from her as he thought of the agent he tortured, knowing _that_ was the reason they wouldn't come back thinking he got what he wanted out of the man and moved on.

Olivia suddenly gave up on the cigarette sensing Sylars growing annoyance with the habit. As she stubbed it out under her sneaker she remembered a question she wanted to ask him, one she wasn't sure he would be excited to explain.

"So, your name is Gabriel huh?" Olivia started with caution.

Sylar nodded his head while staring out over the small back yard.

"Then Sylar is what, a nickname because I don't see the connection." She stated curiously.

It almost killed him, hearing her ask about his name so nonchalantly when the story behind it was anything but simple to explain. Of course she could not have known a straightforward question like that would come with a deeply complex and disturbing answer and Sylar just wasn't ready to tell the story yet, no matter what Peter had said. So, he gave her the short vague answer.

"My watch." He said holding out the arm he wore the broken Sylar watch on. "I made it, well built it anyway."

Her reaction was strange to him as he watched and waited for her to continue on asking about the watch, but she said nothing. Instead she reached toward his wrist with a captivated expression on her face. Even as she moved her hand through the air she was sure it was a very bad idea to let the moment unearth some memories better left forgotten, but once her fingertips brushed the cracked glass it was too late. She couldn't understand how the name had not been recognizable to her as soon as she had heard it, how she could miss knowing the name of an object that helped ruin a certain portion of her childhood. They weren't the same, except in brand name. Sylars looked antique almost, not digital…like the other one. She forced her eyes away from the watch as pain rapidly spread through her veins away from the heart she had kept it locked in for so long. She told herself it was no big deal, she could handle it. Taking on emotion was what she was built for and if she couldn't learn to control her own she had little chance of realizing her ability's full potential. So in the interest of learning self control she did her best to swallow it, keep pretending it wasn't there as she had for the last 21 years. Her eyes finally settled on Sylars shoes, but she had made no move to withdraw her hand from his watch.

Finally Sylars concern out weighed his own apprehension over the moment. "What's wrong?"

As soon as he spoke the sound of his voice took her from the trance she had fallen into. When she met his concerned stare the images of her past flashing through her mind like a horrible movie you can't look away from almost instantly vanished. The pain still rushed through her like venom poisoning her blood, going anywhere it pleased; she felt sick to her stomach, though it could have been from the stale non menthol cigarette she had chocked down. For a long time all she wanted was to be alone, but now it was a relief to remember that she wasn't, that she kind of had a friend, no matter the insane circumstances surrounding them.

"I'm fine." She answered a little hoarsely.

"You look very pale...a little green too. Come on, we're going inside. It's not safe out here anyway." Sylar took her by the forearm and gently tugged upward as he stood.

She didn't fight him at all since suddenly becoming rather weary. "Yeah, we better take cover from the government spy satellites." Sylar laughed, finding it easy to do with her. Probably a little due to the relief of hearing her joke after looking like she had just seen death.

"You think you're joking. How else do you think they're finding us so quick, especially since we don't even know where we will end up?" He played along with the joked as they entered the kitchen, hoping to keep her from passing out because she certainly looked like she was on the brink.

"Nope, it's the implants. You know, the ones from the aliens. It's all one giant conspiracy. Everything's connected." Olivia quick circled her arm around Sylars waist on instinct as she felt her footing about to falter.

He responded by putting an arm around her shoulders. For an instant he felt so strange, like he had no idea why he was there helping her, like he wasn't sure he _should_ be there interfering with her life and ability at all. The only thought that could push that doubt away was knowing that he had already made his choice...that he knew he _wanted_ to be there.

Peter, having only heard Olivias last statement about aliens gawked at the two like they were missing their heads. Upon taking in Olivias appearance however Peter immediately kicked into nurse mode.

"Is she ok?" He asked, very concerned.

"I'm fine." Olivia said before Sylar could answer for her. "Just really thirsty, hungry…tired…should I go on?" She smile weekly at Peter as Sylar moved to hand her off to him.

"Can you sit her down in the living room? I'm gonna get her some water." Sylar said distracted.

"I'm capable of walking on my own." Olivia interjected.

Sylar looked from her to Peter. "Just go with her."

The two moved through the doorway leaving Sylar to search the dirty kitchen for a clean cup. "Not the recliner!" Sylar shouted quickly over his shoulder, remembering the last person to occupy the seat.

"What the hell am I doing?" Sylar whispered to himself in the empty room. He repeated the mantra _I can do this_ over and over in his head trying to clear the sudden fog that was creeping in and messing with his determination. The fact that he was on the brink of panic told him he was losing more of himself than he thought. Gabriel would panic, not Sylar. He knew then that he needed to find a balance, that he couldn't do what needed to be done as just one or the other….he needed to be both. A few deep breaths later he started searching for water.

"Here, sit on the couch." Peter suggested.

"Great, the couch again. I have this odd sense of déjà vu." She remarked with a sarcastic smirk.

"Here you go." Sylar returned with a small cup of water from the faucet.

"Thanks." Olivia took a sip looking down into the water trying to lose her thoughts in the distorted perception of her surroundings provided by the ridged plastic of the cup.

Above her head Peter and Sylar were trying to have a wordless conversation which consisted mostly of raised eyebrows and shoulder shrugging. Neither seemed to know what the other was trying to say and by the time Olivia had finished her water they had given up the pathetic attempt at charades.

"So what do we do now?" Olivia piped up since no one else was talking.

The two men looked at each other. "I think we should stay here tonight, figure everything else out in the morning." Sylar decided.

Peter looked like he was about to protest when Sylar shot a look down at Olivia and back at Peter. He got the hint and closed his mouth.

"Sounds great. This place have a bathroom?" Olivia asked sounding exhausted.

"Yeah, I'll show you. Then I think you should lay down, get some sleep." Sylar motioned up the stairs and let her go first.

As he walked past Peter grabbed his arm. Peters interests were peeked, thinking if this was her worst reaction to Sylars back story then they were in business. "You told her?" Peter whispered to Sylar.

Sylar screwed up his face looking at Peter as if he were insane. "Did you really expect me to tell her now?"

"Then what…"

"I don't know. She was fine, asked about my name, thanks very much for _that_ by the way. Then all of a sudden she just…looked like that." Sylar looked up the stairs where Olivia had just been.

"Sylar…"

"Relax Peter, I'll tell her." Sylar pulled his arm away from Peters grasp. "Trust me." He smirked at the irony.

"Gabriel?" Olivia called the name down wondering what had happened to him.

Both men snapped their heads toward the stairs as she called Sylars real name. Peter glanced sideways at him waiting for there to be some sort of inauspicious reaction but all there was to see on Sylars face was a small smile slightly wrinkling the corner of his eye.

"Coming." Sylar answered before pounding up the stairs after her.


	16. Chapter 16

I don't own Heroes

Again I apologize for the delay, I've just been extremely busy as of late. I will continue updating so don't think I'm just going to leave this story unfinished, I won't. Enjoy all!!!

Chapter 16

"I'm glad you could make it." Angela did not turn to greet her visitor as he took the seat next to her on the park bench.

"I've been programmed to answer when a Petrelli calls. You should know that, you're the one who programmed me." Noah stared out over the park at the dimming sun as it hung just atop the tree line.

On any other day Angela would have humored him with friendly banter, but today she ignored his sarcasm as she did not have time for pleasantries. "I need you to do something for me Noah."

"Of course you do. I expected nothing less. Though, I have no idea what I can do for you that Nathan can't or hasn't already done." Noah looked at her expectantly.

Angela avoided his stare instead glancing around the park, allowing a tiny bit of guilt to be apparent in her expression.

"Ah, I see. You don't want Nathan to know about whatever it is you are planning on asking me to do." Noah bowed his head in understanding.

"You always were sharper than the others Noah." Angela smiled privately at a recalled memory. "I need you to distract Nathan, knock him off his game a little." She picked at a piece of lint stuck to her coat, still shying away from facing her companion.

"Why? Peter is safer now than he was two days ago. Maybe Nathan didn't find it worth mentioning, but he has all but abandoned his personal crusade to find him in favor of apprehending some one else, a woman." Noah was used to being confused by Angela and he saw that this time would be no different as she shook her head in opposition to his words.

"I know all about the woman Noah. _She_ is exactly who he needs distracting from. What do you know about her?" Angela asked sounding as if she already knew what his answer would be.

"I know she has an ability…Nathan hasn't put the file down long enough for me to get a look at it actually."

"She's has empathy. Nathan has this idea in his head that he will be able to convince her to help him with this ridiculous contrivance. It would seem that my son has found the gray areas of this work to be a bit unsavory and he is seeking to smooth out the bumps so to speak." Angela's indifferent tone of voice didn't surprise Noah one bit, except for the fact that when she mentioned the gray area it sounded as if she too had formed a disdainful attitude towards it.

"If it saves lives…"

"The only thing this woman will be saving is Nathan's own ego when he realizes how simple it would become to fulfill his plans with her in his corner. Innocent people…"

"Since when are you so concerned with the nameless and faceless innocent? Petrelli's take care of their own. That's the way it always has been and always will be so I have to wonder…which Petrelli are you taking care of with this business? The list is a lot shorter than it once was." Noah knew he was edging on becoming antagonistic, but Angela would never have respected him if he was the follow orders no questions asked type of guy all the time. He just had to know when to ask the questions, and when to do as he was told. He was a man who wore many hats, that was what made Noah so perfect for the job he did.

Angela felt a small lump form in her throat though she wouldn't dare let on how much she was affected by the current situation. Exposure to the government was after all one of the things she had spent her life working to avoid, and now it was one of her sons who had brought that particular fear out into the light.

"I have always done the best I could with the information I had at the time. Unfortunately sometimes the missing pieces prove to be much more important than what I anticipated." Angela paused as she collected her thoughts before revealing to Noah as much of her current dilemma as she felt would aid him in completing the task she charged him with. "I know who the woman is with, and I need you to steer Nathan away from her."

"Who is she with?" Noah asked suspiciously.

"Peter." Angela answered; her voice deepening with what Noah thought sounded something akin to regret.

"Of course she is." He now understood her motive for asking the favor of him. "Claire said Peter hasn't exactly been friendly toward you these last few weeks. How did you happen to come across this information exactly?" Noah asked in the hopes that he hadn't traversed the invisible line that one should never cross with Angela Petrelli.

"Please Noah. How do you think I would know." Angela almost scoffed at him.

"Because you set it up." Noah sighed.

"Yes. I had one of my dreams, but the situation has since changed…I've found more of the pieces. If Nathan finds her, and I have it on good authority that he might, then he will find Peter too and _that_ I can not have." Angela shifted her position finally turning to face Noah for the first time since he had arrived.

"So…you've chosen between them." Noah remarked. "For real this time?"

"I love my sons…I love both of them very much, but Nathan…he's going to destroy us and everything we have worked for. I can't have that either. I have dedicated my life, sacrificed friendships, lost the love and respect of one of my sons…all to protect our secrets. I won't allow Nathan to succeed because…one day he will look back on all he has done and wonder what it was all for. He will be alone…and in the end, full of regret." Angela sat back looking at him with a small sad frown.

Noah didn't respond right away and Angela felt she had given enough reason that Noah would be convinced to do what she asked.

"Can I count on you Noah?" Angela finally elicited a decision from him.

"Of course." He answered looking up to graying sky then to her. "What is it you want me to do?"

"Whatever you have to." Angela answered with intensity.

Just then Noah's phone rang in his pocket. "It's the office."

"Well," Angela rose from her seat, "I suppose you should get back to work. It was good to see you Noah."

He watched her walk down the path back to the street before flipping the phone open. "Yes?"

"Mr. Danko would like to see you Mr. Bennet." A voice on the other end relayed the message.

"I'll be right there."

***

Matt made certain to observe the freeway speed limit so as to avoid drawing unwanted attention to the stolen car he was driving. He reminded himself that he had at least until the morning before he would need to ditch the vehicle in favor of hopefully more legal transportation, but that wasn't his main concern at the moment. He was much more interested in Maggie's uncanny intuition concerning breaking into the car, not to mention the statement she made after. She had not spoken one word since they started the trip and now the sun had set and her eyelids looked as though they were becoming rather heavy. Molly was asleep in the back seat of the car and had been for a while; probably due to the sedative the agents had injected her with when they took her.

_Bastards!_

If he wanted any sort of answer from Maggie he figured now was the time since he had no idea what she planned to do once they stopped for the night.

"What did you mean back there?" Matt broke the silence, keeping his voice low as he glanced in the rearview mirror at the sleeping girl in the back seat.

Maggie had been staring out the window slowly dozing off and lost in her own thoughts. "Sorry?" She turned to him with a quizzical expression.

"You said 'I guess you aren't the only one with a talent.' What were you talking about?"

Maggie looked back toward the window seemingly ignoring his question.

Matt would not be deterred. "Did you mean me…what I can do? Did you mean…Maggie…what can you do?

The skin on her arms prickled with goose bumps standing the tiny hairs straight up to stare at her. She looked down and smoothed them away with the warmth of her hand. Indeed her palms were near sweating as the nervousness caused by Matt's question forced her to finally face the very thing that had sucked the youth out of her through the past year.

"About a year ago I was handed a case out of Buffalo. 14 year old boy, six homes in the past year…"

"Great, you wanted answers from me so badly you stopped the car in the middle of the street but for you it's story time." Matt wasn't usually a sarcastic person and he felt marginally unscrupulous about unleashing his frustration on her like that.

Maggie closed her eyes and sighed pushing down her instinct to retort with fervor. "The boy," she continued with a hard tone to catch Matt's attention, "Derek Ward, was sent to Albany because the Buffalo foster system had no other family willing to take him. I accepted his file as a favor to a friend who thought that I might be able to do something for the kid. But…after three more homes in six months I was starting to think I wasn't as good at my job as I thought I was."

Maggie glanced back over her shoulder at Molly still sleeping in the back seat, glad that she was able to look back at a child she had helped while recounting the story of a time she had fallen short.

"He was a quiet kid, didn't talk much…not even to me. But I never observed him misbehaving, never had complaints from the schools that he was disruptive or picked fights with other kids. I just couldn't figure out what was wrong with him which…is abnormal." Maggie paused long enough to swallow and finish the story.

"Maggie…" Matt said with pity.

"Just let me finish. I placed Derek with a family that I had placed another one of my boys with about a year before knowing that they were open to dealing with kids that another family couldn't handle. It was working out pretty well for the first three months. Not a single phone call or complaint." She shook her head like she still couldn't understand what had gone wrong, even now. "Then I went over for a scheduled visit to check up on both boys. Nobody answered when I knocked and the door was unlocked so I went in and found everyone but Derek in the living room watching television. Not a single one of them moved. Not the mother, father, or Ethan, my other foster kid. But as soon as they noticed me all of them started talking at once, Ethan started crying…I called for Derek and when he didn't answer I went to find him. He was upstairs sitting on his bed with his head down. I asked him what happened and he just looked at me like he didn't know what to say at first. Then he said in such a small voice that he was sorry but he couldn't control it."

"He had an ability." Matt nodded not meaning to speak out loud.

"Yeah. He could render you unable to move. You can still talk and breathe…but you can't move, not one inch." Maggie informed Matt who raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"That's…I don't want to say useful…but interesting." Matt tried to lighten Maggie's obvious melancholy at discussing Derek.

"Well, he didn't think so." Maggie replied with her head bowed.

Matt sat for a second, waiting to see if Maggie would continue since she hadn't actually answered his question, but she stayed silent. "Maggie, what does Derek have to do with…"

"Derek is the reason I realized that what I can do isn't just some innate talent…it's something different." Maggie returned to staring out the window.

She didn't know why it was so difficult for her to talk about especially considering that Matt had basically blurted out the fact that he could read minds. The trouble was that no matter what she could do, she had been perfectly happy doing the job she loved until she came across Derek. It wasn't his fault, but what happened with him ultimately had given Maggie a sour outlook when it came to exceptional abilities, causing her to see her own with as much contempt as Derek had viewed his.

"The family was freaked out by the whole thing, but they didn't see Derek as the cause I guess because they weren't trying to shove him back into my hands. He got to stay there. But two weeks ago he ran away…or at least I thought he ran away. Now…now _you_ say that the government is after you and Molly and if you can…if you have this mind reading ability then…that's what they're after isn't it?" Her question was pleading.

"They're after people like me, like Molly, people who have abilities." Matt agreed reluctantly knowing it would only solidify the assumption he heard in her question.

Maggie just nodded and prepared to answer his original question. "I find faults."

Matt tilted his head as he considered her statement. "You find faults…like in a person?"

"In anything. That's how I knew how to get into the car without using your revolutionary rock through the window trick. I find what's off about things, the problems within them. It's how I'm so good with the kids, how I can get them to talk to me when they won't talk to anybody." Maggie leaned her head back and took a deep breath as she waited to hear what Matt had to say.

After a moment of silence Maggie turned her head slightly to look at him. His face was relaxed and he seemed to be paying closer attention to his driving than necessary.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" She asked a little hurt that he might not have been paying attention.

"I'm sorry for what happened with the kid Maggie." Matt was still stuck on the fact that somebody else he knew had been affected by this whole mess and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

"Thanks." She answered quietly.

A murky sort of tension settled in the car then, neither one of them wishing to really continue with the conversation as it brought up things they were not thrilled to be confronted with just then, as there was a whole new problem to deal with. Molly would be considered a missing child and every law enforcement officer in the state would be notified of the amber alert.

"We have to get out of New York." Matt spoke up.

"Where? We are in a stolen car with a kidnapped kid, where are we gonna go?" Maggie was on par with Matt's line of thinking.

"I'm not sure yet but…"

"Jersey." Maggie interrupted unexpectedly.

"Jersey?" Matt questioned skeptically.

"Yeah, I have a timeshare near the beach in Ocean City. Don't look at me like that…I share it with five other people." Maggie gave him a reproachful look.

"Great." Matt said with uncertainty.

"Do you want to stop, get some rest, something to eat?" Maggie gave a meaningful look back to Molly.

"No, you rest. And as long as Molly is sleeping I'm not going to wake her up. I just don't have the energy to answer the questions I'm sure she's gonna have. It's getting late but if I drive straight through we'll be there before morning. Then we can regroup and I can figure out a way to contact Peter." Matt seemed satisfied with the plan.

"I don't want to rest. I want to know what you know." Maggie looked hopefully toward Matt with a determination to help in any way she could as long as it meant keeping the little girl in back seat safer than she had kept Derek.

***

"Don't you ever sleep?" Olivia's voice made ripples through the middle of the night silence that permeated the house.

Sylar whipped his head toward the unanticipated wakefulness to find her on her side, hands tucked up under the pillow smiling sleepily at him. He would have smiled back if only he had not been revisiting his self doubt just seconds before. The fact that he was allowing himself to fall back into the rhythm he had adopted while at the company and Pinehurst worried him greatly. That alone would not have been a thought to concern his worries with, except for the fact that in the end it had not mattered the effort he put into being Gabriel…being a hero…he had still killed a woman that perhaps he hadn't loved but _had_ cared about. Part of him still questioned his fitfulness for this job. And Peter's high and mighty mission to stop his brother was tugging at his intuition telling him that things could only end badly there. But Sylar had built himself to take on challenges, and despite his better judgment he wanted to take Nathan down a few pegs.

"Front bedroom…" He motioned out of the window with a nod of his head, not quite sure she could see him in the dark.

"Keeping watch, yeah yeah I know." She propped her head on her right arm. "Anything exciting happening?"

"Nope, quiet." Sylar shifted to face her, keeping his tilted slightly toward the window. He wasn't in the mood to talk but when he glanced at her he couldn't help wanting to say something, even if his solemn tone gave away his mood assuming she hadn't already picked up on it with her ability. "Feeling better?"

"Marginally. Hungry now, not tired." She answered with a yawn.

"It's not near morning yet, you should go back to sleep." He advised turning halfway back toward the window.

Olivia fell back onto the pillows and kicked the cover off until it reached her knees. She lay there staring at the stucco ceiling until the edges of her vision blurred and she blinked it away. It occurred to her that she had fallen asleep just as it was starting to get dark and had little concept of time at the moment.

"What time is it?" She wondered, cringing when a flashed image of his watch brought back a stab of what she had felt earlier.

"3:30." He answered after glancing at the small clock radio on the far side of the room.

"Where's Peter?" She asked remembering that he had been at the house before she fell asleep.

"Couch." He shifted in his seat again perturbed at his present inability to quell the mounting agitation that appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Yet, he knew he was lying to himself if he truly thought there was no reason for the discomfort he was experiencing. All it would take was for her to ask one simple question at this very wrong moment. After having spent the last several hours stewing in his own introspective coma, recounting his past atrocities, trying to piece together a reason that he should be given not a second chance, but a third to make things right the last, thing he wanted to be hit with were her queries regarding who he was.

Olivia had become equally silent after Sylar's obvious unwillingness to talk, considering the sharp toned one word answers he had given. She paused for another few seconds deliberating the sensibility of her next question. Sensible or not her curiosity would not be assuaged. "Why would everyone think you were dead?"

"Damn it Olivia, can't you just go back to sleep!?" Sylar snapped, biting his lip immediately afterwards disappointed with his lack of emotional control.

Olivia turned her head and squinted through the darkness to see him. She hadn't even given a thought to using her ability to find out what was wrong, having yet for it to become second nature for her. Even after the idea occurred to her, she fought the urge to use it on him, not wanting to become too dependent on the ease of obtaining information that it allowed.

"If you don't want to talk that's fine, but if it's all the same to you I don't think I can sleep anymore." She swung her wrinkled jean clad legs over the side of the bed and let her feet dangle there as she stared down wishing for a change of clothing.

A glance around the room revealed as much clutter as the downstairs, apparent even in the lack of light. Eventually her eyes landed back on his silhouette striking her with déjà vu for the third time in two days and she chuckled quietly at the statistical improbability. Sitting in silence and resisting the urge to break the discomfort was a skill that Olivia had been honing her entire life, so she would remain patiently waiting for him to either break down and start talking, or ignore the fact that she was staring at him and continue watching the empty streets below.

Sylar fought the urge to look at her set on avoiding as much contact as possible at the moment after having been so harsh.

_I'm not being harsh, that's Gabriel talking. Harsh would be if I cut open her…_

His whole body shuddered at the thought and he worked without conscious intent to push it away. After successfully swallowing the lump in his throat he was able to settle down his body but not his racing mind, and hope that Olivia had missed his startling display.

Unfortunately she had still been staring at him and would have noticed his odd movement had it not been for the ripple of emotion she felt against her bubble that alerted her before he had even moved. "Are you alright?" She asked delicately knowing he was not.

"No I'm not." He answered breathless and distracted.

Olivia rose from the bed with a tiny squeak of the old mattress and padded over to him kneeling next to the arm of the chair. He quickly glanced at her out of the corner of his eye then having to force himself to look away from her as he again felt the urge to say something, though he wasn't sure what this time.

"You should get some sleep." Olivia startled him by not only speaking unexpectedly but by placing her hand on his left forearm. "I can keep watch." She suggested lightly trying to comfort him into submission.

Still he stayed silent, bringing his right hand up to his chin and absently pinching his lower lip. He wanted to sleep, his mind was definitely tired, but the last time he slept he had dreamt of Elle and he was certain that he was in no condition for his own mind to be playing games with him.

"Sylar?" She broke his train of thought.

"Hmm?" was the only response he could muster.

"I know there's something you're not telling me."

His entire muscular structure tensed, reminding him of the feeling of thousands of volts of electricity surging through his body thanks to Elle. The sensation was not welcome, not as it once was. _Then_ it had been about helping Elle purge her bad feelings, _now_ it was a response to something he wanted very badly to avoid explaining…this time it was out of fear.

"The thing is…I don't care. Everyone has secrets." She bowed her head at the moment he finally turned to look at her with an empathetic frown on his face. "You barely know me, and I get the impression that even if we were the best of pals you still wouldn't be all that chatty. It's kind of refreshing actually to meet some one who isn't looking to constantly be spewing every thought and feeling into my lap…not that I mind being the confidant…I don't at all. It's what I was meant for apparently." She smiled slightly. "I just wanted you to know that I know there's something you aren't saying so that you won't have to spend so much energy trying to make it look like there isn't something you're not saying. Make sense?"

Sylar's mouth opened to respond, but he had to replay her comment in his head before he could attest to the cohesion of it. "Yeah, makes sense." He wished he could have stopped there, but he knew he couldn't. "It's just…how do you know you don't care? You don't even know what 'it' is."

She thought for a second, trying to put feelings into words. "I don't know…because everyone deserves a chance to do things differently."

"And what if I've already been given that chance and threw it away?" He asked sadly but pleased to see that not only did she have yet to remove her hand from his arm, but that she had actually squeezed it with sympathy.

Olivia's eyebrows came together in concentration. "In my opinion if it had been a real chance you would have succeeded. You just didn't have the right set of circumstances surrounding you…you weren't ready. So consider _that_ your practice chance." She finished with a triumphant smile and a nod of her head.

Sylar would not be so easily persuaded. "You don't know…"

"I don't need to know. Not until you are ready to tell me. Until then…" She let the statement hang.

Giving his arm a final squeeze she rose from her knees and headed for the bedroom door. "You really should sleep though. I'm gonna take a shower, if that's ok?" She said turning back around.

Sylar was too involved in the thoughts that her words had conjured to do anything more than nod his head. Once alone he pushed himself out of the chair and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. The similarities between what Olivia had just said and the speech Elle had given him after saving his life did not go unnoticed. Elle had spoken with just as much conviction as Olivia just had, but Elle had been playing him the whole time, he just had no way of knowing then. Now things were different because thanks to his wonderful ability to detect a lie he knew Olivia was telling the truth.


	17. Chapter 17

I don't own Heroes ::insert sarcastic remark::

I just purchased the Heroes soundtrack and have been sucking as much inspiration from it as possible. If you haven't heard it, get it. Best song on the CD is He's Frank by Port Authority feat Iggy Pop. Anyway...hope this chapter is satisfactory. It is becoming increasingly difficult to keep all of the story lines straight and moving at more than a snails pace, so if you are getting bored or don't know what the hell is going on feel free to message me privately or post a review. I'm in this for the long haul and I hope you guys are too. I mean hell, how else are we supposed to get our Heroes fix over the summer.

BTW if you haven't seen Star Trek get the hell out of your chair turn off the computer and buy a ticket at your local cinema because I'm not a Star Trek fan (went only because ZQ is Spock) and it blew me away...seriously...go see it!

Chapter 17

After the first nervous hour on the plane passed Claire was finally able to fall asleep. Rest had eluded her immediately after boarding the flight. Her thoughts kept pulling her to dwell on Peter and this Luke Campbell, not to mention both of her fathers, Matt Parkman…it even occurred to her that people she had once known but were no longer involved in her life, people like West, would be in jeopardy too. The fact that she hadn't spoken to or seen him for lord knows how long didn't matter, it just mattered that he had an ability which meant he was in danger just like everyone else. The scope of what Nathan had instigated was finally reaching her through not only thoughts for her friends but the mere idea that people she had never met, people she may have passed on the street, would be affected by this.

The overnight flight was very empty, and Claire was happy for it since it allowed for her to have free reign over her particular row of seats. When she woke up the plane was descending from the five hour journey and the sun had risen over the horizon putting the time not too long after dawn. Claire wasted no time exiting the cabin as soon as she was permitted by airline staff, who of course positioned themselves at the doorway to thank everyone for flying and offering well wishes during their stay in New Jersey. The baggage claim was teaming with activity inside the terminal as she strode past the horde of passengers from flights that had arrived around the same time as hers. She was very glad then to have only brought a carry on bag and avoid fighting her way to the front of the pack. Tucked snuggly in the inner pocket of her coat was a little notebook with all the information Angela had given her pertaining to Luke as well as the others. Claire patted at the spot where it should be just to make sure the square shape of it was still evident under her fingers.

Once outside it became apparent to her that she might have to wait a while for a cab seeing as how there were none out front at the moment. She didn't live in the city so her experience with hailing taxis was rather limited. Luckily for a man who had just exited the terminal to Claire's left a taxi was just pulling up and Claire observed as the man merely waved at the driver and he pulled over to the curb right away. The man turned to open the door and saw Claire standing there watching him with a funny look on her face and assuming, correctly, that she was waiting for a cab with little idea on how to flag one down he insisted that she take his, swearing that he wouldn't have too wait long for the next one. She thanked him and accepted without an argument.

As soon as the door closed the cab driver continued the time honored tradition of asking, "Where to?"

Claire pulled the notebook out of her coat and read the address verbatim, then settled in for the ride having no idea how long it would take. She would have welcomed a bit more sleep if only to pass the time, but her mind wasn't going to let her off the hook so easily. Being awake meant she would be thinking about things she would rather avoid.

Peter saved her life, he was her hero, and anytime she knew he was in danger there was this overwhelming urge to run out and save him that consumed her until she knew he was safe again. It was almost like she needed to even the score between them, pay him back for all that he had done for her. He was part of her family, one of the only members she knew she could trust unequivocally and that made him indispensable. For her to try and not worry about him was a joke, one she did not find funny.

Then there was what to do about Luke Campbell. She hadn't even met the kid and already was having second thoughts about having chosen him as her first mission. He was a teenage boy, and Claire was well aware of the stereotypical attitude of boys that age. Her only thoughts had been to disobey Angela, she had given very little consideration to what she was going to say to Luke regarding why she was there. She didn't even know if he was aware of his ability let alone of a government plot to incarcerate others like him. The question remained; what should she do with him once she made contact, assuming she could get him to listen to what she had to say. Angela had not been very specific with regard to what came next and Claire was beginning to think it was a purposeful omission designed to teach her a lesson about responsibility and test her ability to be on her own. The problem was that Claire was starting to wonder if she was ready for this, that she might not be prepared…but she _wanted_ to do it none the less.

"For Peter." She whispered to herself, apparently a bit too loudly.

"What's that?" The driver called from the front seat.

"Oh…nothing. Just thinking out loud." She forced a smile and an accompanying chuckle hoping her response met the standards of normalcy.

The remainder of the ride Claire spent in silent reflection and intense contemplation, doing her best to plan the next step. Failure was not an option since it would mean having to contact Angela for help and though Claire told herself that she didn't care what her grandmother thought, she was after all a force to be reckoned with and upsetting her was never a good idea. The final decision would have to wait until Claire properly assessed Luke's situation, whether he was in immediate danger or flying under the radar. Going in blind was as enormous a risk as trying to save a plane full of people, but she'd have to make due.

Slowly the taxi came to a squeaky stop across the street from a wholly mundane brick house. Claire got out of the car and tipped the driver less than he apparently expected. As she stood facing the end of the line a tingle of excitement went through her. Peter would have hugged her tight and talked about destiny, had he been there with her, but he wasn't. She would do this alone and prayed she would do it well. Looking around she found the street to be rather quiet. The only thing to catch her eye was a sign that swung lightly in the breeze in the front yard of a house two doors down.

"Taxidermy…weird." she said then turning her head toward her destination. "Here goes nothing."

Three consecutive knocks echoed into the living room of the Campbell home rousing Luke from his lazy spot on the couch. He wasn't too sure he wanted to answer it knowing that although his mother had already left for work she might be crazy enough to send some one by to make sure he wasn't skipping school…which he was. Knowing the quiet path across the floor he quietly crept to the door staying out of direct view of the curtain covered window to avoid casting a shadow through the fabric. As inconspicuously as he could manage, Luke peeked through the side panel window at the unexpected visitor on the porch. To his complete shock the person on the other side was a girl…blond…hot…and looked to be about his age. His hormones told him to open the door immediately, though not before eliminating the possibility that she was a solicitor by looking to see if she was carrying a bible or pamphlets, but she had only a knap sack draped over her right shoulder. As he stood there ogling the pretty girl on his porch she raised her hand to knock again. Luke hastily grabbed for the door knob and yanked it open, clearly having startled her.

After the surprise fell from her face she managed to find her voice. "Hi. Um…are you Luke Campbell?" She asked with as much cheer as she could stomach faking.

The smile faded from Luke's face and was taken over by the suspicion that his mother really was crazy.

"Who are _you_?" He asked warily.

"My name is Claire." Paranoid, she looked from side to side. "Are you Luke?"

"Why do you…"

"Are you Luke or not?" Claire asked with thinning patience.

"Yeah, yeah I'm Luke." He offered willingly now.

"Great. Can I come in?" She requested in a softer tone as she glanced around the street again.

"Uh…sure." He opened the door wider and stepped aside allowing her to pass.

The inside of the house looked just as ordinary as the outside with a small foyer opening into a sort of dinning room that ran directly into a moderately sized living room with the kitchen doorway tucked into the back left corner. The one thing that did impress her about the space was how bright it was with light pouring in through the numerous windows on the left wall.

Claire stopped at the edge of the living room distracted by the sounds of breaking glass and twisting metal. For a second she was expecting a car to come through the wall until she noticed the television playing some shoot 'em up action flick.

"Do you think you could turn that off?" Claire asked sweetly as she prepared in her head what she was going to say.

Luke gave her a bemused glance but did as she asked. The room fell silent as he stood looking at Claire, and Claire kept looking to the ceiling, the windows, the couch…anywhere but at him.

"Not that I'm opposed to having a cute girl in my living room, but…what do you want?" Luke asked slowly.

Claire rolled her eyes and exhaled harder than necessary. "I'm here to help you."

"Ok…help me with what?" Luke pulled his eyebrows together in suspicion.

Claire chewed her lip, still not having nailed down what her opening line should be. Fortunately for her lack of speech giving skills, and unfortunate in every other aspect, at that very inopportune moment the sound of screeching tires coming to a halt just outside cut through the air causing Claire to whip her head around and stare wide eyed at the front door. Luke, having no idea what the sound meant, opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but before he even had the chance Claire was in his face.

"Guess you're not under the radar. Back door?" She said quickly and with some force.

"What?"

"Back door!? Where is it!?"

Luke turned, motioning behind him. Instantly Claire grabbed his arm and yanked him along with her through the kitchen and out into the yard just as heavy military issue boots pounded up the front porch steps.

***

Daphne felt tugging at her shoulder and though she wanted to jump out of the bed at the unexpected intrusion the morphine running through her system would not allow her to move even at a 16th of the speed to which she had become accustomed. She did however manage to open her eyes and jerk away from whoever was in the room examining her.

"It's alright Daphne, it's just me." Mohinder's voice was unmistakable.

"God, what time is it?" She asked, rubbing her forehead with her good arm.

"It's morning, still rather early." Mohinder answered as he continued to unwrap the bandage around Daphne's shoulder.

Daphne looked up at Mohinder noting the circles under his eyes had lightened some and he wasn't wearing a sad scowl. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Not much. I was busy." Mohinder tossed the wrap aside and began carefully peeling the gauze pad off her wound.

"Fine, if you want to run yourself into the ground…"

"I was thinking Daphne. And I think I've come up with a plan." Mohinder smiled at the way her wound looked. It was healing nicely. The skin around the edges did not appear irritated and red nor was there any oozing of the stitches proving there was no infection. "This looks good. How's the pain?"

Daphne was too busy scrutinizing Mohinder's face for proof of insanity to answer his question. "What are you talking about?" Daphne asked with disbelief.

"The pain, are you in…"

"Mohinder! What are you talking about _you came up with a plan?_ A plan for what?!

Mohinder didn't miss a beat. He kept on redressing Daphne's wound with a skill like he had been doing things like that for years while she continued staring intently at him. "I'm going to get you out of here." He said with another convincing smile and a jerk of his head toward the door.

After Daphne had fallen asleep the night before something occurred to him while he gazed into his microscope and at the computer monitors at his work station. He owed Matt. No matter the fight they had or what they had kept from each other they were friends, and Peter too. He owed them both and he finally figured out a way to pay them both back for their continued friendship using his current position inside the belly of the beast. Matt wanted Daphne, and Peter wanted to stop Nathan, so all he had to do was get Daphne to Matt while giving Peter a little assistance with his mission.

"And how exactly did you expect to do that Mohinder?! In case you haven't noticed this _is_ a government building…isn't it? Not too easy to escape from with guards at every door!" Daphne was shocked and a little scared.

Mohinder's spirits wouldn't be dampened by her pessimism. "Yes Daphne, it is a government building…but remember who we are." He smiled knowingly.

"Yeah, a scientist with skills and a chick pumped full of morphine with a bullet wound in her shoulder." She answered with a roll of her eyes.

"True…but what happens if we take the morphine away?" Mohinder glanced at her as her face dawned understanding before falling into an expression of mock pain.

"Then my shoulder starts to _really_ hurt." She answered through clenched teeth.

"Yes, but your ability will return as well and _that_ is what is most important." Mohinder finally finished with her shoulder and backed away to survey his work. "There you go, fresh dressing and I even added a bit of numbing ointment. I'll do the same again later on." His rubber gloves came off with sharp snaps and he tossed them in the trash as Daphne sat up in bed supporting her weight on her left elbow.

"So your plan is what…for me to just run out of here?" Daphne antagonized.

"Don't be foolish. I need to create a diversion of some sort, give you time to get out because unfortunately we don't have the kind of time it would take to let you heal completely, which will most likely hinder the use of your ability." Mohinder pulled a chair to the bed and sat next to her.

"Hinder…hinder how much?" She questioned tentatively.

"I've no idea exactly, but a wound of any kind seems to have as adverse an effect on certain abilities as it has on normal physical activity. The tazers they used on me seemed to do the trick of taking the wind out of my sails. In other words you'll be fast, just not _really_ fast since your body isn't functioning at 100 percent." Mohinder explained.

"Well, couldn't we just fight our way through anybody we might come across? I mean you have super strength don't you? Why can't we just…"

"I'm not going Daphne, you are. As I said, _I_ need to cause a diversion…take the attention off of you so that you won't be as noticed leaving the building." Mohinder could see that she was not in tune with the part of the plan where she goes alone and leaves him behind.

"Ok, now I know you're crazy. What are you talking about Mohinder of course you're going with me. I'm not doing this alone; I'm not going to leave you here!" Daphne shifted off her elbow and winced as she sat back in bed. Already the morphine's effect had lessened enough overnight that she started to feel a dull ache radiating out from her right shoulder.

Mohinder wanted to turn away from her, but he made himself stay strong. He told himself he wasn't sending her out there alone and defenseless for no good reason. He was making an informed choice, the only choice, even if he had to be a little deceptive in the process. "Matt needs you Daphne, and you need Matt. It's the least I can do after…I owe him; I owe a lot of people. That's why it has to be you. If you can get out then you can help everyone."

Daphne went from apprehensive to confused in a matter of seconds. "How exactly does that make sense?"

"Because," Mohinder scooted forward on his chair and rubbed his hands together in mild excitement, "Matt and Peter will surely be together and you will be carrying very important information with you that Peter will need to have if he wants to succeed in stopping Nathan."

"Huh?"

"The facility." Mohinder answered as though it should be obvious.

"Mohinder, please! Just explain this to me without the dramatic pauses and vague description." Daphne was becoming excited herself, and not in a good way.

"Forgive me; I just don't want to overwhelm you." He admitted sheepishly.

"No just…just tell me. I may be small but I'm not fragile. Overwhelm away." She prompted with a nod.

Mohinder went on at her request. "I'm sure by now Peter has already begun forming some sort of plan to pull us out of this mess, and though I have no way of knowing what it might be I think that liberating the people Nathan has already taken into custody would have to be in there somewhere."

"Wait, what other people? I've only seen you, and you've only seen me, right?" Daphne interrupted him.

"Surely you don't think we are the only two. I think Nathan put us together only because I already knew they had you in custody." Mohinder dropped his eyes to the floor in anticipation of her next question.

"But how did you know? I thought you all might think I was dead." She asked.

"We _did_ think you were dead, until Noah told us you weren't. I didn't trust him of course, but Matt was happy enough to take him at his word, which is understandable. After I was apprehended Nathan showed me a video of you…alive. It was only then that I really believed what Noah had said, and it was how Nathan convinced me to help him. He said that if I agreed I would be able to help you, make sure you _stayed_ alive." Mohinder looked up to find her deep in contemplation.

The idea of seeing Matt again made Daphne's heart flutter inside of her chest. No matter the fight she had put up trying to convince Matt that just because he saw a future where they were together didn't mean that things would end up that way, she knew that she loved him just as much as he loved her. It wasn't her style to let people get close, but Matt had trampled over the walls she had put up around herself, and without him around to love and protect her she ended up feeling exposed. That she needed him as much as he needed her was a relatively knew concept to her, but she had finally gotten it and would do anything to have the chance to tell him he was right about everything.

"Daphne, if I can provide Peter with the location of the other people Nathan has taken then he can rescue them. I don't see how Nathan can be keeping them all here, but even if he is I'm going to find out and send that information along with you when you escape." Mohinder continued as Daphne stared off into space.

Suddenly she came back to the conversation having heard every word of what Mohinder had told her. "You still haven't explained why you can't come along. We won't need a diversion if you go too and you know it." Daphne insisted she was right, but could see by the look on his face that Mohinder was not going to be convinced. She just wanted to know why.

Now Mohinder did turn away from her getting up from the chair and moving to the foot of her bed. "I can't go because I have work to do here." He wouldn't look her in the eye as he spoke, afraid of what she would think of him.

"What work?" Daphne persisted.

"I'm sorry Daphne but…while I don't agree with Nathan's tactics I do think that we are, or rather can be dangerous people. Some of us…there are people out there who don't want to hear a word about controlling their abilities; some of us prefer using our abilities to commit crimes and hurt people. Nathan is going about this the wrong way that's true, but I understand his motives. He feels like his life was ultimately destroyed by the emergence of these abilities, and from a somewhat objective point of view I can not disagree with him. For some of us, you for example, life was enriched by this miracle of human evolution…but some of us were damned by it. I made the mistake of coveting something that I was not chosen to have and it ruined the life that I knew. I thought I could never go back to the way things were…but what if that wasn't true?" Mohinder leaned over the bed emphasizing the last bit.

"How could you ever go back, none of us can. It's not like we can just turn this off, forget we have what we have. And I doubt there's enough morphine in the world to keep all of us in check for the rest of our lives." Before Daphne finished her sentence she realized he wasn't talking about controlling the abilities, he was talking about eliminating them.

"Nathan wants a cure, and I do as well." Daphne didn't look as horrified as he thought she might so he continued, though cautiously. "If I can find a way to eliminate, or at the very least suppress these abilities then Nathan wouldn't have a reason to continue locking people up."

"I thought that was why you wanted Peter to have the information, so _he_ could stop Nathan? You don't think he can do it?" Daphne asked quietly still not sure how she felt about Mohinder agreeing with Nathan on any part of this.

The conversation finally ended up exactly where he didn't want it to be. He had hoped that Daphne would be so excited at the prospect of getting back to Matt that she would have little concern for Mohinder's real motive for all of it in the first place. "I think that were Nathan to lose his position there would just be some one else waiting in line behind him to take his place and that some one could prove a much bigger tyrant that Nathan ever could be." Mohinder admitted. "Giving Peter information that he would have no way of otherwise obtaining would buy me some time, present him with an opportunity I know he wouldn't be able to pass up. And I know Peter. He won't just run in guns blazing, he will think about things before making his move because he'll know he only has one shot at it."

"So…your real reason for helping me escape with information for Peter isn't so that he can end this whole thing, it's so that he will be distracted from dislodging Nathan from power long enough for you to find your little _cure_!" Daphne didn't try to keep the hurt and disgust from her tone as she accused him.

"I'm sorry Daphne but…you don't understand. I need Nathan to be where he is because he is the one protecting me, letting me do this work. And a cure will change _everything_. It can be given to those people who want it and forced upon those who don't deserve their abilities because they would use them against others…criminals like Sylar." Mohinder tried to sound convincing but her face was showing no signs of acceptance.

"I think you are the one who doesn't understand Mohinder. You really think that if the government had a cure that it wouldn't be given to every man, woman and child with an ability!? You really think it would be _optional_!? And what makes you think Peter won't just run off to the rescue when I tell him what you just told me!?" Daphne was past excited, she was incensed.

"Daphne please…"

"I thought you said you owed them, that you wanted to help them. How is taking away people's abilities helping anybody but yourself!? Just because you made a mistake doesn't mean that other people should suffer losing something that they _want_ to have." Daphne bent forward and grabbed her shoulder in obvious pain.

Mohinder rushed to her and gently guided her back onto the pillow. He looked down to find her glaring daggers at him. "I know how all of this sounds, I know because I wrestled with the decision all night. It's the only way to truly end _this _particular battle. I can't be concerned with what will come after; looking into the future can sometimes guide you in the wrong direction."

For some reason when Mohinder said that, Daphne felt a shiver run through her whole body.

"You need to rest Daphne." Mohinder gently instructed.

Daphne wanted him to leave. She wanted him to go away and take his talk about cures with him, but at the same time she wanted nothing more than to get back to Matt and Mohinder's plan certainly afforded for that outcome. She resolved to tell Peter what Mohinder had told her though, if only because she did not want to have that cure anywhere near her or Matt.

"I don't want to rest." Daphne was defiant but had calmed down. "I want you to tell me how exactly you plan on getting me out of this building and back to Matt because I don't really know how much longer I want to be here with you." Daphne looked up at Mohinder, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

He had prepared himself for this, for her to hate him, and he accepted it as an inevitable consequence of his decision because the fact of it was that no matter what everyone thought; Peter, Matt, Daphne, Nathan, Claire…there would not be one objection amongst the group to seeing a certain serial killer injected with a solution designed to strip abilities.

Mohinder moved away from Daphne's death stare and placed himself back into the chair next to her bed. "First things first…"

***

Noah's 15 dollar digital alarm clock exploded into song letting him know it was time to get up. Today was a big day, especially since yesterday had been so informative. While only days ago Noah assumed he had been put on a strictly need to know basis by everyone he thought would want him in their corner, now he realized all he needed to have done was remain patient and they would come to him…like they always did. Even the new player, Danko, who Noah had formed an immediate dislike of, and vice versa, had demanded rather than requested to speak with him.

Sitting upright and swinging his legs over the side of the bed he winced slightly when his bare feet hit the cold wood floor of the temporary bachelor pad as he shook the remaining haze of sleep from his head. He was still getting used to the feel of the new place, even though he fought the idea that he would _need _to get used to it. As per morning ritual he reached for his glasses on the night stand and proceeded to the bathroom for a shower and shave. He arranged his razor and shaving cream on the vanity next to the sink as he watched it fill with water, his wheels spinning. The whole night before had been spent intensely plotting for today and his plan still needed some fine tuning.

After the edifying meeting with Angela in the park Noah got back to DC a little later than he had expected, but Danko was waiting for him. The main point of the conversation with the malevolent little man was yet unknown to Noah when he sat down waiting to be talked at. The first word out of Danko's mouth was the name Sylar. He informed Noah of the events that took place in Newark at the residence of Samson Gray, a man they now presumed to be Sylar's father. Noah listened to Danko as he recounted the report filed by his clean up crew, that some one had killed his entire team keeping one man alive to be tortured for a not so small amount of time. On the whole Noah could not say he was overly surprised to find out Sylar was alive since he always seemed to find a way back from the brink of destruction no matter the situation.

Congruent with Noah's expectations, Danko seemed to be getting twitchy. The man's obvious lack of tolerance and forbearance just happened to be only one of the reasons Noah was not at all fond of him. In this line of work Noah knew better than anyone how true the proverb "patience is a virtue" really was, and Danko looked about ready to jump out of his own skin. Without giving away too much detail as to his motivation Danko confided in Noah that he had plans to go after the serial killer and he wanted Noah's help, citing multiple occasions where Sylar and Noah had gone head to head, and yet Noah lived to tell the tale when so many others had not. Noah reminded him that he didn't have an ability and so was of no interest to Sylar other than being an obstacle between him and Claire…which he had already accomplished hurdling. Danko however was not to be dissuaded. He requested that Noah put down some of his insights on paper and gather any and all information on Sylar that may have been left out of the file they had on him at building 26 so that he might get an idea of how best to disarm and capture him. But most importantly Danko imprinted the absolute necessity that Nathan not find out what they were doing.

How fortuitous for Noah that Danko should choose just then to decide to enlist his help, when only hours before he had been called upon for a much different reason, but with the same instruction…keep Nathan in the dark. The moment he left Danko's office an idea began forming in his mind. It was perfect. Angela wanted Nathan distracted from Olivia and, by association, Peter. Sylar had and always would be a thorn in the side of many, many people whether they knew it or not and capturing him would not only be a huge win, but Noah suspected rather time consuming as well since Sylar was never an easy man to find.

Noah drained and rinsed the sink before turning to start the shower. He had already decided that Sylar would be his tool to complete the task Angela requested of him, but merely enlightening Nathan to the fact that Sylar was alive and well and killing again would not be enough to draw his attention for more than maybe a few hours…if he was lucky. As he rinsed the generic two in one shampoo from his hair he came to the conclusion that betraying Danko to Nathan would be the only way to hook, line and sinker Nathan into shifting his focus. If going after Sylar meant taking Danko down a few notches Noah had no doubts that Nathan would bite at the chance.

Dressed in one of his many somber colored gray suits Noah straightened his tie and glasses in the mirror. He noticed himself smiling a little, which he had not been aware he was doing. He thought again of how perfectly his plan would work out. Angela would get what she wants, Nathan would get a huge gold star if he could actually take out the reoccurring nuisance that is Sylar…and Noah would finally be able to tell Claire that that chapter of her life was closed, that she would never have to think about Sylar again because he will be gone, and she will still be safe from the probing fingers of the government thanks to an even more influential Dad number two. Plus as an added bonus Danko will be left in the dust when Nathan overshadows him by doing exactly what he set out to do…make the world a little safer. Noah nodded once at his reflection before heading out the door to see about a meeting with Nathan.


	18. Chapter 18

I don't own Heroes ::weeps dramatically::

Sorry for the delay...again. I should just apologize now for any further delays because it's starting to get warm out and...come on people...I live in Pennsylvania where 9 months out of the year it's either raining or snowing. So I plan on getting my outdoors time in before it gets cold again. Anyway...don't worry though, I will not abandon this story...I love it too much. My hope is to finish it before the new season starts in fall so here's crossing my fingers. OK, enough babble...Enjoy!

Chapter 18

"Damn it!" Olivia exclaimed as the cheap ceramic bowl broke into chunks against the linoleum kitchen floor. She hurried gathering the pieces for the trash hoping the bowl wouldn't be missed, and wanting to keep under wraps how much of a klutz she could be.

In the living room Peter twitched awake, shaking his head slowly. Unless it had been a dream he could have sworn something had just clattered and smashed to the ground behind him. Sitting upright he stretched his neck and back out of the position the couch had twisted him into sometime during the night. The sound of running water prompted him to get up with a yawn and a raised eyebrow while heading toward the noise to investigate. Olivia had her back to him washing her hands in the sink. On the counter next to her were piled newly washed plates, cups, bowls…

"You did dishes." Peter observed as he ran his hand through his hair smoothing out his bed head.

Olivia started at the sound of his voice, placing her hand over her heart; the international sign for _you almost gave me a heart attack._

"Peter, jeez make some noise when you walk." She scolded him lightly, turning off the water and drying her hands on what might have once been a white towel but now more closely resembled a spotty beige rag. "I wasn't sure how long we would be here and I thought it would be helpful to have clean cups and use of the sink so…That and I've been up for a few hours. Needed something to do." She fidgeted with the towel before finally setting it on the counter in an uneven lump. "I already did the bathroom." She added on with a sheepish bow of her head.

Peter smiled at her nervousness. "You know, I thought with your ability it might be kind of impossible to sneak up on you."

Olivia smiled wryly, not really surprised that Sylar had told him about her ability. "Yeah well, it's not as glamorous as it sounds." She remembered then what Sylar told her about Peter and her lips pursed as an involuntary reaction to closing off her empathy to avoid absorbing anything from him. "But I guess you would know." She continued, not wanting to sound like a know it all.

"I don't have empathy, never did." Peter cocked his head to the side, pulling his eyebrows down.

"No…but you have empathic mimicry don't you?" Olivia asked worried that she had her facts mixed up.

"I used to…well I guess I still kinda do." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not able to hold on to more than one ability at a time. Once I take a new one, the old one goes away." His statement took on a dreamy yet jealous tone that imitated the look on his face.

Almost as soon as it had come about, the darkened expression vanished without leaving any trace and his eyes once again took on their usual kind concerned glimmer. Still, she did not feel quite comfortable enough to answer him, but felt less comfortable standing there in silence with him staring at her expecting a response.

A hesitant "Oh" was all she could rally.

She didn't need empathy to read what had been all over his face for the briefest of seconds, he was jealous. Olivia wondered what exactly he might be jealous of, but was entirely too meek to ask, especially since Peter had just appeared rather intimidating a second ago.

Fate stepped in just then, about to present both of them with a much more dire situation than the awkward silence that had fallen between them. A familiar sensation vibrated against Olivia causing her mouth to drop open as she bolted past a dumbfounded Peter toward the front door. Peter opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was cut off by the sound of screeching tires just outside. At that, he made for the front door as well.

This time Olivia could feel him come up behind her. "Agents." She whispered so the shake in her voice wouldn't come through.

"Here, let me…" Peter gently moved her to the side taking the look out position at the window, which she was more than willing to give up.

The look of shock felt cemented on her face as she had worn it so many times over the past two days. She ran through all of the horrible things that might be about to happen, then her thoughts fell on the man asleep upstairs and only that drew her from her frozen pose next to the door.

"Gabriel." She breathed, making her way to the stairs only to be stopped by the sense that there were people out back of the house.

For a second she struggled to make a choice between the stairs and the kitchen, choosing the back door only because if it _was_ agents there was no sense in bringing Gabriel, Peter and herself together in one room to be taken out like a line of dominoes. She jogged through the living room trying not to trip and braced herself to find a gaggle of agents in the backyard poised to break down the door. What she saw when she got there however both relieved and worried her.

"Peter, there are kids in the backyard." She said just loud enough for him to barely hear her.

"Kids?"

"Two teenagers." They appeared rather hurried and watchful, at least the girl did, the boy looked like he was just taking a stroll. After a second of deliberation Olivia decided, "I'm letting them in."

"Olivia…" Peter tried to caution, but wanted his full attention on the activity out front, even though the agents seemed occupied with a house two doors down from them. He wondered briefly which direction the teenagers were coming from and if they were in anyway connected to what was happening down the street; his intuition screamed yes.

Not wanting to be overly obvious to any onlookers she opened the screen door just wide enough to stick her head out. She was sure the scene must have looked a bit ridiculous but couldn't find it in herself to appreciate the comedy of the moment just then.

"Hey!" She whispered as loud as possible while scanning the area for any agents that might have been milling around outside.

Luke was the first to notice the floating head of a women peaking out of a screen door. He stopped moving, causing Claire to mimic him. When she noticed he was staring at something her heart dropped and she whipped her head around expecting to see agents with guns pointed at them. Instead it was a woman beckoning them to come inside. It took Claire half a second to weigh the pros and cons of accepting the offer before she took hold of Luke's arm and tugged him toward the house.

"Come on." She pulled but he wasn't budging. She turned and glared at him with an,_ are you insane_, type of expression.

"I know the guy who lives there." Luke said calmly…too calm for the situation Claire thought, almost like he didn't care.

"So what…congratulations." Claire snapped at him, still tugging on his arm.

"Sooo…_she's_ not him." He nodded toward the woman who continued to wildly scan the surroundings.

For a second the information made Claire want to second guess her decision, but between a house filled with agents and one that might be getting robbed by the world's friendliest thief…

"I don't care, let's go." This time she yanked on his arm hard enough to illicit a small grunt of pain from Luke before he followed, dragging his feet.

Claire hurried up the steps and into the house. The woman closed the door but continued watching out the window as Luke and Claire stood silently waiting in the kitchen. Seemingly comfortable in the surroundings, Luke began wandering toward the living room. Claire on the other hand curled her lip in disgust at the dirty look of the house, wondering who could live with dead animals scattered around, especially in the kitchen. From the end of the counter near the fridge a frightening looking squirrel stared her down, sending a shiver down her back.

"Taxidermy." Claire whispered to herself, remembering the sign she had seen out front when the cab had dropped her in front of Luke's house.

"Hey, there's a guy at the front door." Luke observed.

Olivia spun around, not sure what she expected to be there, but was relieved to see he was referring to Peter.

"That's Peter." She explained with a sigh of relief. "I'm Olivia."

"Where's Samson?" Luke inquired.

"Who?" Olivia asked.

Claire looked briefly at Luke, deciding to ignore his lack of concern for their current dilemma. "I'm Claire, that's Luke. Thank you for…"

"Claire!?" Peter's ears perked at the sound of her voice, not sure if he was hearing things or just plain hopeful.

He thoughtlessly abandoned his post at the door and turned toward the conversation.

"Oh my god, Peter!" Claire almost sprinted across the living room, hugging Peter tight around the waist.

"Claire what are you doing here?" Peter asked as he gently pulled back to look down at her.

Olivia and Luke watched confused at the apparent reunion. Noticing Peter had vacated his spot at the door Olivia stepped around him and Claire to take up watch. A few seconds later she sensed Luke sidle up behind her.

"That's my house." He almost sounded like he was boasting the fact that government agents were, at this moment, tearing his house apart in search of him.

She found his demeanor a little disturbing, to say the least, as she watched while one by one agents began exiting the house.

"You have an ability?" Olivia responded, ignoring his statement in favor of voicing her own assumptions.

At first it looked as if he had no idea what she was talking about, then his lips curled up into a creepy smile as he raised his arm out in front of him facing his palm toward the scattered items on the coffee table.

Immediately Olivia grabbed his arm pulling it back down. "NO! Not while they are out there." She jerked her head toward the door.

Luke chuckled sarcastically. "What, like they're gonna see."

Olivia glared at him with the hint that his lack of obedience and smart ass sarcasm was in no way appreciated at the moment.

"Your mother shouldn't have done that Claire. Helping you fly across the country alone…especially when you are being watched…you could have been caught. Just because my mother told you…" Peter stopped the scolding for a second, long enough to realize he was talking down to her just like everyone else.

Claire took advantage of his pause to defend her actions. "I didn't do this just because Angela wanted me to."

"Claire, you shouldn't be here. You should be at home…where it's safe." Peter knew he was only exacerbating her victim issues, but she was his niece and it fell to him to protect her when no one else could, or would.

"Yeah, safe at home being watched by the government while everyone I know is running for their lives thanks to not _one_, but _both_ of my fathers." She stared angrily at him.

"Claire…"

"No Peter. I'm tired of being told where I should be, what I should be doing…It's like I'm some game piece everyone thinks they can just pick up and move around. I'm tired of being compliant; I'm tired of people trying to keep me from getting hurt when_ I can't get hurt!_ I want to help you so…that's what I'm going to do." The irony of declaring her independence from manipulation while having been manipulated by Angela was not lost on her, she just chose to overlook the fact.

Peter's shoulders sagged in defeat, finally accepting the fact that she was there to stay. He actually considered it wasn't the worst idea, especially considering Nathan was the one protecting her and he didn't trust Nathan anymore. Suddenly Peter glanced up at the ceiling, remembering who was sleeping upstairs and indeed whose house they were it.

"Hey, they're leaving!" Luke exclaimed into Olivia's ear as he watched over her shoulder.

Peter gave a gentle squeeze to Claire's arm before moving behind Olivia, shrugging Luke out of the way. Olivia and Peter exchanged a mildly surprised glance as they watched the agents quickly gather back into their truck having to drive off empty handed. Peter stole a private look at Olivia then, thinking of the situation Sylar was about to find himself in with Claire in the house and not wanting Olivia to know about his past just yet. Keeping the secret seemed unlikely now since Claire was more than happy to explain to anyone who would listen what kind of monster Sylar was, not that she didn't have good reason to do so.

Then there was Claire's reaction to think about when she found out Sylar was there, that they were in _his_ father's house, and that Peter had teamed up with him. Peter's own predicament was not a small one. He needed Gabriel in his corner and Claire would never understand the difference between the monster and the man because they would both look the same to her. But Claire was his niece, his family, and Peter always put family first when they deserved it. He could feel the tension building in his forehead; soon it would become a nasty headache.

***

The combined scents of tomato, garlic, and oregano tickled Sylar's nose. He twitched, inhaling the hearty aroma as he blinked himself awake. He squinted at the smooth bone white ceiling thinking he could have sworn it had been a popcorn ceiling when he had fallen asleep staring at it. Suddenly he realized night still hung around the city…Queens by the look of it out the window of the bedroom.

"Damn it!" He sighed throwing his head back onto the pillow.

Above and to the right and left shelves and shelves of books surrounded him. This wasn't his father's house, he was in his old apartment again…dreaming. Reluctantly he pushed himself off the bed and headed out into the living room where he knew something annoying would be waiting for him. As he came around the chair he realized he had been half correct, something _was_ waiting for him but it wasn't annoying so much as gruesome. Against the wall on his right between the two windows in the living room a body sat slumped over itself, the top of the skull missing. Sylar slowly closed his eyes breathing in.

"Trevor Zeitlan." He said to himself, wanting to prove that he remembered the man's name.

With his eyes still shut he wondered if he could affect the dream by simply wishing the scene away. A quick peek revealed the answer to be no.

"You really should have offered him something to eat before doing that to him. You know…like a last meal. It's only polite Gabriel." Sylar turned to his left to find Elle standing in front of the kitchen doorway holding that giant pan of ziti, smiling that devilish smile of hers.

"Elle." He growled.

"Now now, is that any way to show how happy you are to see me again?" She antagonized while slowly sauntering over to wave the ziti under his nose.

"You're not…"

"Yeah yeah, I'm not Elle, blah blah blah. Didn't we already discuss that?" She lifted the pan for him to sniff, but he didn't move.

He glared down at her with the most impressively evil stare he could forge but instead of shrinking away she stared blankly back at him. Finally she sighed, shrugged her shoulders and made her way back to the kitchen to set down the pan and remove the blue oven mitts. All of this she did very deliberately and without speaking, as if she was intentionally dragging out the scene even though they had already lived it once, but then he supposed that was the point. After a second of staring down at the food that would never be eaten she twirled around leaning against the doorway and put on her most innocent expression.

Sylar waited for her to get on with whatever it was she had to say to him this time. "Well?" He shrugged impatiently.

"Well what?" The inflection in her voice told him she was enjoying the game.

"What are we doing here?" He questioned shortly.

"Elle chuckled. "How should I know, it's your dream isn't it?" Her smile told him she was lying.

Sylar turned his head toward one of the windows to his right watching the lights outside. It was familiar yet so mocking, reminding him of what his life once was. So many nights spent reading in the chair facing the windows, periodically glancing up from his book if only to make sure the world outside still existed as he lost himself in the story.

"What are we looking at?" Elle asked cheerfully.

Sylar was surprised to turn his head back and find Elle inches away from him, her head turned in the same pose as his had been. He took three steps back, widening the distance between them. It made him uncomfortable being that close considering he had murdered her…even if she wasn't technically Elle. Unfortunately backing up toward the bedroom had put Trevor's body in Sylar's peripheral vision making him turn away slightly as it incited a queasiness that he was not altogether unfamiliar with…it was reminiscent of the distress he had felt after killing Brian Davis.

Suddenly Elle began to laugh. Not enough to bring tears to her eyes but enough to goad Sylar into asking what her problem was.

"Nothing, it's just funny." She said while still chuckling.

"_What_ is funny!?" Sylar demanded.

He tried to keep his calm, but had always found it near impossible to do around her, dream or not.

"You, you're funny. I mean really…why would you care about these people at all?" She had stopped laughing and her features slowly took on a more sinister appearance. "Brian Davis and Trevor Zeitlan…they were you're first and second kills. Why should they matter at all?"

"How did you know…"

…What you were thinking?" She finished his question. Leaning in close, like she was about to tell him a secret, she whispered, "I'm in your head. Your thoughts are my thoughts." She smiled winningly.

This time instead of backing away he leaned closer causing her to inch back a bit. "Then why don't I know what you're thinking, hmm?"

Elle twirled around, her hair slapping Sylar in the face, to reclaim her spot in the kitchen doorway.

"Because silly, I'm your subconscious. If you knew what I was thinking I wouldn't be so much 'sub' as full on consciousness, and you wouldn't be having this dream, would you?"

Sylar pondered that a moment, making a face when he decided she made sense.

"Anyway…you've killed many…many…people since those two." Elle motioned to Trevor, but when Sylar looked there were two bodies instead of just the one. Brian lay face down in a pool of blood with the back of his head smashed in…and Trevor was still propped up against the wall missing his skull cap. "So why would they be significant enough to make you feel anything? Especially when _I_ couldn't even do the job." She added coyly at the end.

She did seem genuinely curious though, a fact that bothered him immensely since he was sure she already knew the answer. For a second he considered lying, for all the good it would do him. Then he figured dreams had purpose, and admitting his flaws and faults to the dream Elle couldn't actually hurt him in any real life way. In fact it could be considered a good thing.

He forced his body to turn toward the dead men on the floor, feeling that his feet wanted to go in the opposite direction.

"Because…" He took a deep breath, never taking his eyes off the corpses. "…because I _could_ still feel then. I still had…still had a soul."

"You think you don't have a soul?" Elle asked, no emotion in her voice, just clinical coldness prompting him to go on.

"I didn't." Sylar answered after a moment.

"You _didn't_ have one, or you didn't _think_ you had one, like past tense and now you _do_ think you have…"

"Elle shut up!" Sylar hated when she rambled.

She was laughing again however and he knew she had just been trying to get a rise out of him.

"Oh Gabriel." She sighed. "So, you feel remorse for them now because you felt bad about it then…but what about everyone else you've hurt…what do you feel for them?" She asked, seriousness once again creeping into her tone.

In an instant the scene changed and he was standing in the bedroom at his father's house. It was still night, and for a second joy filled him as he thought perhaps he had woken up, until he heard Elle's voice behind him.

"So I ask you what you feel for the other people you've hurt, and we end up here. Interesting." She nodded her head.

Sylar turned and was prepared to throw out a rather witty comeback when he noticed some one lying on the bed. Upon realizing who it was his breath caught in his throat.

"Olivia." He whispered.

"Yeah, that was the interesting part I was referring to." Elle commented lightly.

The dream Olivia appeared to be sleeping, something Sylar was mighty thankful for. Immediately he wanted Elle to go away. Even if it was nonsensical, having them near each other made him extremely uneasy, as if their close proximity would suck the world into a black hole…or worse, Olivia would suddenly and inexplicable know everything that Elle knew. Sylar grappled with the drivel running through his inner monologue while Elle made herself comfortable in the chair in front of the window.

"You know what I think?" She chuckled. "No, of course you don't. I think everyone else is wrong about you, even you."

Sylar looked at her not wanting to give away his interest in her claim. Of course that was impossible.

"I think you always did feel. You felt me, absorbed my ability just like she does, through empathy. I think you felt every single person as you cut their heads open…or lit them on fire. But you are so good at denial…it's masterful really." Elle rose from the chair with so little effort she could have been made of air. "Or maybe you are just so self important that you didn't think it was affecting you. Either way being near _her_…brings it back. Only it's not so bad as you remember, or were afraid it would be, right?"

She began circling him like he was prey as he stood unwilling to move. This was the part he was waiting for, the part he wasn't entirely sure he had wanted to get to…the part where she was going to tell him, about him.

"You like her, like the way she makes you feel. Just being around her takes away some of the pain and the guilt that you are so good at pretending never existed, the very things that turned you into a monster in the first place. Maybe you don't completely realize that yet, but you will." Elle stopped in front of him with that evil smile stretching her lips again. "The only problem is Gabriel that you don't really deserve _not_ to be eaten away by guilt. You deserve to be consumed by guilt until you're just an empty shell, to look at those people; think about them everyday knowing you can't take any of it back. And no matter how much time you spend with _her_, how much of the pain you let her take away from you with her ability, you'll never get the one thing you'll come to crave…forgiveness." The evil smile faded, replaced by a happy one so she could lay the cheer on thick. "They can't forgive you Gabriel, they're dead."

Sylar's eyes shot open and he was staring at the popcorn ceiling of the bedroom he had fall asleep in. He could feel his heart beating faster than normal and he closed his eyes taking deep breaths to slow it down. His brief attempt at meditation was interrupted by squealing tires outside, but he was not overly concerned by the noise at the moment. His mind was stuck repeating what Elle had said about wanting forgiveness and never getting it simply because there was no one alive to give it to him. Only for a second did he let the pain of that sink in before his futile attempt to push it away again. A moment later, his thoughts were interrupted for a second time by what he was sure were muffled voices downstairs. Curiousity finally prompted him off the bed toward the door. He thought a quick glance out the window would reveal nothing more than a quiet neighborhood, but what he saw had his heart beating double time once more. Agents were exiting a house not far down the street. He yanked open the door, flew down the hallway and stairs only to freeze halfway down seeing that two more people had joined their little brigade. A teenage boy, who had been staring out the front door window, turned to look at him with a bit of a frightened expression.

"Uhh…Olivia, Peter?" The boy called tentatively.

"What?" Olivia answered as her and Peter came walking into his view, Olivia smiling up at him.

He would have returned the gesture if he hadn't noticed Peter staring somberly at him as the second new person, a girl with long blond hair who had her back to the stairs, slowly turned and looked up at him with anything but a smile on her face.

"Sylar." She growled.

"Claire…" His voice cracked like a 13 year old boys, despite the attempt to keep his tone low. Suddenly he would have given anything for Elle, instead of Claire, to be standing less than five feet from Olivia …anyone but Claire.


	19. Chapter 19

I don't own Heroes ::sobbing uncontrollably::

Thank you to everyone who have submitted a review, and especially thanks to those of you who started reading the day I began and have kept along with me after something like 70,000 words :) Don't worry...it ain't over yet. I'm trying to remember if there was anything else I needed to mention, but have drawn a blank so...Enjoy!

Chapter 19

"Senator, Mr. Bennet is here. He wanted to…"

Before the assistant could finish, Nathan waved an indication to send him in.

"Morning Noah, seen the paper today?" Nathan tossed the newspaper onto his desk, spinning it so Noah could see.

"No, can't say I have." Noah looked down to find the front page overtaken by a very patriotic photograph of Nathan with the heading "Petrelli Making a difference."

"Not even a week and already they're talking about the ways things are going to change, saying what a success the operation is." Nathan didn't sound at all happy.

Noah observed a grumpiness in Nathan's posture that didn't belong there, especially when he was talking about the news reporting that his endeavor to crack down on "terrorists" was more than promising, it already seemed to be working. Noah thought about how influential the media could be. Tell people it's true and they'll believe it.

"You don't agree?" Noah asked taking a seat after closing the door to give them some privacy from curious ears.

Nathan pushed out a frustrated sigh. "Have you ever had a vision, a picture in your head of the way you want something to work out, only to be confronted with the exact opposite?"

"You're talking about the plane crash?" Noah surmised.

"Not just the crash…everything. I'm talking about _this_ becoming a war instead of…" Nathan didn't finish his sentence, and Noah suspected it was because he didn't have anything to fill in the blank.

"Did you really expect them to welcome your hunters with open arms? To _volunteer_ to leave their families, be pulled out of society and placed into a facility designed to do one thing…contain them. Most of these people want to live normal lives Nathan."

Nathan smiled wryly at Noah but did not respond.

"Take it from me. After 20 years handling just this sort of business I've learned more than a few things. One of them happens to be that things never go the way you expect, _never_. You think when I gave my loyalty to the company I expected to be handed a baby as an assignment, or that one day I would break that vow of loyalty because I had grown to love her more than…" Noah stopped as he saw the saddening of Nathan's expression at the mention of Claire. "The point is that you have a goal, not a to do list. You do what you have to in furtherance of that goal. All that stuff in between can't be predicted, and you'll only drive yourself insane trying to control what happens next. Do what you think is right, and if it is…you win."

Nathan slowly began nodding. "You're right Noah."

He then suddenly unclasped his hands from under his chin and began excitedly searching through the scattered files atop his desk. "I did have something I would like to get your opinion on. Here." He found the file and handed it to Noah.

Noah accepted it, quickly glancing at the name and placing it in his lap. "There is a situation I thought I should bring to your attention first. It's the reason I came to see you this morning." He thought he had succeeded at sounding comparatively reluctant.

"Sure, of course." Nathan responded putting on his attentive politician visage.

Noah cleared his throat. "Sylar is alive." He thought it best not to beat around the bush.

Nathan sat forward flabbergasted, considering Noah with an incredulous expression. "I thought Claire…"

"She did. We think that the temperatures produced in the fire burned hot enough to melt the glass shard she stabbed him with allowing him to heal and escape."

"When did we find this out?" Nathan was still too shocked to become angry.

"I'm not sure." Noah admitted.

"Why wasn't I told about this?" Now he had grown more than annoyed.

Again, Noah attempted to convey hesitation in his response. "Danko…"

"Danko! _He_ knew about this!?" Nathan half rose from his chair pressing his palms firmly atop the corners of his desk like he was about to push off into the air.

Noah knew then that he had him right where he wanted. All he needed to do was hit it home. "He called me to his office last night wanting my allegiance in helping him to catch Sylar. He seemed to think that getting Sylar would win him some sort of prize. And he's right; it _will_ win him a prize…your job in this operation."

Nathan stood fully and began pacing behind his desk looking like the little teapot with one hand planted on his hip and the other furiously rubbing his stubble free chin.

"If that little worm thinks he can…"

"Don't lose your head here. There's a very simple solution for this." Noah continued to stay even minded and used his fatherly tone now, knowing how Angela's motherly tenor was rather affective in manipulating her son.

"Enlighten me." Nathan stopped pacing to stand behind his chair, arms folded across his chest.

"Catch him first." Noah said simply and with an inflection that implied the answer should have been obvious.

Nathan's posture did not relax in the least. "Come on Noah. Because nobody has ever thought of doing _that_ before."

Noah inhaled, letting the breath out slowly as he spoke. "You know, the company was successful at apprehending him twice."

"Once." Nathan corrected. "The second time that girl, what was her name? Bishop. You didn't so much catch him as drag his unconscious body into a cell after she let all the prisoners escape…you included if I remember right. Then my mother…" Nathan shook his head in disapproval.

"You want to hurt Danko? Want to show everyone that the newspapers are right about you, about _this_? Then _you_ have to be the one to snag Sylar, _not_ Danko. This has to be your number one Nathan, because it won't be easy, as you so aptly pointed out."

Nathan's face relaxed as he considered the truth and wisdom in Noah's words. Of course the man knew what he was talking about. Noah's insight and experience were the reason he had brought the former company man on board. Now he just wished he had given him Danko's job in the first place. But overall Nathan knew it would be careless to dismiss his advice.

"So," Nathan smirked, "Danko came to you for help. I'm assuming he didn't instruct you to come running to me with this first chance you got."

Noah didn't respond verbally, he just smiled.

"Then why come to me?" Nathan was curious.

"Because," Noah rose from his seat, "I remember who my friends are Nathan. You would be wise to do the same."

Nathan nodded with understanding as he watched Noah leave his office. He did not, however, notice that Noah had walked out carrying the file he had handed him.

***

A salty ocean breeze accompanied the sunlight flowing through the half open window of the time share's guest bedroom. Maggie had been sitting on the edge of the bed for at least an hour watching Molly dream. Maggie herself was running on a mere two hours rest but she felt little desire to sleep. Instead she sat stroking Molly's hair, smoothing out the covers around her, making sure her pillow wasn't flat…anything she could fidget with while fractioning her thoughts between considering the influx of information she had received from Matt, and devising ways to protect Molly from the insanity that never seemed to cease surrounding Matt and his friends.

She was angry with herself for agreeing to help Matt acquire Molly before knowing why, and only felt marginally better when considering that she never could have guessed the current outcome. The girl had an exceptional ability sure, but Maggie knew from experience that seeing the things Molly had seen in her past causes a child to grow up entirely too fast. No matter how useful she might be, Matt should have known better than to pull her into _this_, and away from what was left of her childhood. Of course she hadn't forgotten that Matt pulled the girl from a truck full of government agents who just happened to have gotten to her first. _That_ fact, and the idea that Molly could have ended up disappearing much like Derek Ward were the only two reasons that Maggie had not verbally condemned Matt's choices and subsequent actions.

After much deliberation she decided to leave the child to sleep undisturbed and find Matt, talk to him about what their next move was going to be in this erratically shifting chain of events. Maggie found him in the kitchen, his substantial form was bent over the counter, arms spread out gripping the front edge of the light blue corian, and exhaustedly leaning his head against the mounted cabinets. She didn't exactly feel invited to start a conversation with him, but her straightforward attitude accompanied by the budding absence of patience removed most of the apprehension she felt in disturbing him.

"Matt?" Maggie spoke clearly so that if he was going to ignore her he would have to do so blatantly.

"Yeah."

His tone was so sodden with weariness that Maggie instantly faltered in her determination to hash out the immediate future's details and moved to position herself next to him with a comforting hand on his shoulder. At her touch Matt opened his eyes, turning toward her with what was left of his countenance and calmly repeated his reply in the form of a question.

"Are you ok?" Maggie posed knowing the answer was already quite obvious.

At once Matt snapped up, shaking the intensity from his thoughts and emotion from his limbs. "Yeah of course. Everything's fine." He answered, forcing a small smile.

He was more than aware that she did not believe him for one second, but had no inclination to work at convincing her. Instead he turned away toward the refrigerator to examine its interior for anything that could be considered breakfast worthy for Molly when she woke up.

Maggie watched him, pity creeping into her gaze. She continued with a much softer air, wanting to be sympathetic without insulting his bravado. "When are you going to call Peter?"

Matt appeared to have heard her as he slightly turned his ear toward her voice, but chose to continue peaking behind containers of orange juice and bottles of water for nothing in particular instead of answering her straight away. "I can't call Peter; he doesn't have a cell phone." He answered flatly.

"Oh." Maggie said, not exactly surprised, but confused then as to the method of discovery he intended to use in contacting the wholly involved Petrelli brother. "So then how are we going to let him know we're coming to him, or figure out where we're going for that matter?"

Now Matt seemed to have stilled in his feigned search for food, but continued to stand with the fridge door ajar staring blankly at the contents. Maggie was oblivious to his expression however as she continued on innocently pointing out the difficulties they were facing. He barely listened as she made vague references to the inevitable ambler alert that followed Molly's absence and the stolen car sitting in the garage of the time share. It wasn't that he was opposed to considering the seemingly impassable obstacles in front of them as Maggie rattled off the list, he was just preoccupied with the thoughts he'd been having before Maggie entered the kitchen.

He already knew how to find Peter, that wasn't the issue. The issue was that images of Daphne plagued him still, much like while at Isaac's loft with Peter. He remembered her torso snapping backward as a bullet lodged itself somewhere inside of her, crumpling her to the ground as she looked at him with an expression that said she was sorry…more than anything she was sorry.

Peter _had_ convinced him of the sensibleness of his plan, but the more time that passed the worse Matt's fears became. He had only the knowledge that Daphne had been alive at the time they brought her in, what had happened to her since then Matt could only speculate. And Mohinder, what of him? All he knew was that his capture had taken place just before his own, and his subsequent rescue by Peter. The question of whether he trusted Peter's decision wasn't a question at all, but the fact that these rescues were time sensitive was something that Matt thought Peter hadn't placed enough concern into. They both had different agenda's, but their ultimate purpose was the same and Peter had obviously…and correctly so…put all of his action into stopping Nathan from taking anyone else rather than just reclaiming those he had already taken. Nobody knew what the government intended to do with the prisoners. Not so much referring to _where_ they would be taken, but to _what_ was being done to them in the name of scientific advancement, or more accurately in the name of eliminating these abilities all together. More than anyone Matt knew what it meant to Daphne to have her ability, and there was no way in hell he was going to let them take it from her. That was when he realized he had made a decision, one he knew beyond all doubt that Maggie was not going to be in agreement with, nor would Peter, if he had been there. Fortunately Maggie presented him with an opportunity to interrupt at a rather appropriate moment.

"…have Molly to think about now too. We can't just sit around waiting. If Peter is the man you say he is and can actually do what he plans to do then Molly would be best protected if we were with him…"

"Yes she would, both of you would." He released his grip from the handle of the refrigerator door and let it swing closed using its own momentum.

"Oh…ok." She stopped short, not expecting him to speak as he hadn't for the last few moments.

Though, she felt something not quite right in the way he had answered. "Wait, what do you mean 'both' of us?" She promptly took a step toward him as he turned and walked around to stand in front of the door way, almost reversing their positions from earlier.

Matt sighed heavily, conveying more than a sense of tiredness, but of hesitance as well. "I'm not going to Peter; I'm going to get Daphne." He blurted out all at once.

Maggie didn't know what to say. His proclamation more than surprised her, it disbanded any assumptions or expectations she had for the next day or two, and the uncertainty that now surrounded her path was a little frightening.

"No no no, what are you talking about? I thought you were supposed to meet up with Peter, that's what you said that you needed a way to get in touch with Peter." Maggie was just then catching up to the moment. "You want to use Molly to find Daphne and get her yourself, don't you?"

"Maggie…"

"That's just ridiculous Matt! Why would you do that now? You just agreed that Molly would be safer if Peter could actually succeed in gathering people like us so why would you go off on your own when you know that you would have help if you just waited?!" Maggie was exasperated by his sudden change of heart.

Last night when he relayed as much of past events to her as he could the one thing that he had instilled as necessity in the end was that they meet back up with Peter and combine forces. Now he was completely off in his own direction, and she could see in his eyes the fortitude to find Daphne as soon as possible.

The rigid concern in her posture vanished, leaving her slumped in the acceptance that she was not going to convince him that he was being foolish. Whatever Peter had said to him in the first place to gain his trust and faith in their plan no longer held any sway in the argument, and Maggie didn't have the slightest idea where to begin.

"So…here you are again with blinders on." She began harshly, not able to withhold the contempt she felt that he allowed himself to be ruled by this particular fault over and over again. "Like I said, you never see the big picture." She shook her head to the ground.

"No see, I know what it is, but seeing the big picture doesn't mean forgetting about the people involved!" Matt jabbed his finger at the floor in an angry gesture.

It was very rare that Maggie had seen Matt in the state of agitation he was now exhibiting, but instead of taking a fearful step back she inched toward him, softening her tone. "Of course not, but Matt…"

"Maggie you deal with kids that have been thrown away either by their family or by the system, you see them everyday. They aren't the big picture, existence doesn't thrive or die based on the happiness of those kids but everyday you still go to work and put everything you have into helping each and every one of them as much as you can. You do it because you know it's right, because it means something to you not because you think it's going to fix some world crisis. Can't you see that I need to do this because…because what if Peter doesn't win, what if they keep hunting us and we have to run. If that happens…and I didn't come for her…" Matt was almost panting. "She'll think everything I ever said to her was a lie, that none of it was ever going to be real." His nostrils flared, but not in anger. He looked almost like he wanted to cry.

It was a strange realization, one she did not entirely agree with, but her ability revealed another fault in him. He had such a big heart, and when he cared for somebody he gave them everything he had. He was invested in his relationship with Daphne, and though her ability recognized that kind of devotion as a fault that might cloud one's judgment, she noted it as a quality to be revered.

They looked at each other for a long time in silence. Matt regained his composure, and Maggie fought the urge to compile a list of reasons that this was still a very, very, bad idea.

"Ok." Maggie spoke, answering a question that hadn't been asked.

"Ok what?" Matt ventured, not sure if he was on safe ground or if the argument was about to go in another direction.

"Molly tells us where to find Peter…and Daphne." Maggie answered a bit stiffly. "But don't think that I'm not going to tell Peter that you've gone insane once Molly and I get there." She added sternly pointing her finger at him.

"Of course. I'm counting on it." He smiled and stepped forward to pull her into an awkward hug. "Thank you."

"Yeah." She said into his shoulder. "You're welcome."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The room fell into dead silence, except for Luke's incessant jingling of the change in his pocket. Olivia's smile began to falter, then fade, leaving her muscles to mold into a dubious glare that she promptly aimed in Peter's direction. He caught sight of the ambiguous stare from a sideways glance, but offered no enlightening explanation of events just then. His unwillingness to acknowledge her concentrated visual probing insinuated a more complex development than a simple reunion. Not that she needed Peter's benevolence to understand the intensity of the moment. No, the exaltation of emotion Olivia was experiencing, undoubtedly with Claire's emotional baggage as the catalyst, summarily informed her of that.

Peter was the only one brave enough to open his mouth. "Uh Claire, why don't we go into…"

She didn't even allow Peter to finish his suggestion before turning to stalk past him into the kitchen. He immediately followed after offering an apologetic glance at Sylar that did not escape Olivia's attention. Luke and Olivia were left dumbfounded, though the teenager seemed to shake it off rather quickly and resumed staring out the front door.

"You sure know how to clear out a room." Olivia jested with a smirk.

When Sylar again failed to return the sentiment, opting instead for a tense stare, she found it bothered her instantly and more than anticipated. Yet, rather than read him she settled for the more old fashioned approach.

"What's wrong?" She questioned as she would have any friend back home.

Sylar's throat had dried up, and his mouth was sticky. Even with Claire out of the room he still experienced a desire to grab Olivia and retreat as far from Jersey as possible. Though the fact that he wanted to escape with Olivia solely for the purpose of withholding from her certain information was not as surprising as it would have been two days ago, it still was not the best idea ever.

Things change, he knew that better than most, and he wasn't used to meeting someone he, a) Did not want to kill, and b) had a relative ignorance to his past actions and current abilities. The relief of it was overwhelming. He realized then what Elle had been telling him in his dream, that being around her made him more like Gabriel again…like maybe he hadn't lost his soul after all. Elle had said that she thought he _always did feel_, so he _must_ have believed it himself. And the thing that made him a monster in the first place, the hunger, was something he had not felt toward Olivia since he had last dreamt of Elle the day he and Olivia had met.

Of course his cunning mind calculated all of this in a matter of seconds as the surroundings remained quiet. Without a word Sylar turned abruptly and treaded back up the stairs. Olivia moved to the bottom of the steps and watched upward as he reached the top.

"Don't follow me." he said harshly in an effort to suppress what he really felt, anxiety.

Olivia did not argue or push or even disobey his "request" to be left alone. She sighed and shuffled over to the arm chair, staring at it for a long second before deciding to instead take up her cushion on the couch. Now it was just her and Luke.

"So Luke, why don't you _tell_ me what your power is…no demonstrations." She felt oddly comfortable taking the authoritative role with the teenager, even though she wasn't even twice his age.

"Well…" he smirked, "it's pretty cool."

"I'm sure it is." Olivia replied sarcastically.

***

Claire stood arms folded with her back to Peter as he entered the kitchen. He could only imagine the expression she wore. Though he had been trying desperately to form any sort of cohesive argument for being in Sylar's company he was still at a loss for words. Everything he conjured sounded horribly contrived rather than truthful and convincing, and if he was to mollify her temper he would need to be more than creative.

"Claire…"

"Stop." She slowly turned over her shoulder, followed by the rest of her rigid form, hand held up, looking a bit menacing. "Just…stop."

It struck Peter how calm she was presenting herself.

"I don't like this. I don't like it at all but Angela's dreams are never wrong, are they?"

Peter furrowed his brow in confusion. "What dream?" he asked, knowing that if his mother had intentionally hid it from him, then he wouldn't like the answer.

"She didn't tell you? Then why…it doesn't matter." she shook her head quickly. "Your mother had a dream where you were standing with Sylar across from Nathan and…damn it!"

"What?" Peter was caught off guard, but took a few compulsory steps toward her.

"Nathan was standing with a woman…an empath named Olivia." Claire motioned exaggeratedly toward the living room.

This gave Peter pause as he considered the unlikelihood that Olivia would team up with Nathan. It's true he knew little about her, but from what he had learned and the fact of the effect she was having on Sylar, he couldn't imagine any situation in which Olivia would be standing alongside _Nathan_, rather than Sylar and himself. Unless…

"Claire," he strode forward and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, "I don't know about any dream. My mother told me to find Sylar for help…"

"…help, how…"

"Just listen to me ok. I need you to trust me here, because what I'm gonna tell you you're not gonna like."

Her suspicion towered over her annoyance. "What?"

"You can't tell Olivia _anything_ about Sylar. You can't really say _or_ do anything that would even hint at the fact that he's a…a…"

"…Serial killer, monster, psychopath!" She finished wide eyed and mouth agape, looking as if she was about to vibrate into another dimension. "Why!?"

"Because she doesn't know. Don't ask why right now; just know that we don't want her on anyone else's side but ours. She's doesn't _just_ have empathy Claire, she's an empathic mimic." Peter was staring at her hard now trying to will her to understand.

"Like you." She grasped...

"Not exactly like me anymore, but like I used to be."

"So then the last person we want her standing next to is father number two. Peter…" she stared him in the eye, concern dragging down her features, "if she's here now…with Sylar, the worst of the worst, then what the hell would make her go over to Nathan's side? She doesn't even know Nathan… "Claire formed an "O" with her mouth, covering it slowly with her hand. "You think that if she finds out what Sylar's done, she'll change teams?""

"It's a pretty good theory isn't it? It's pretty much the only theory."

"DAMN IT LUKE!"

Peter and Claire simultaneously turned to the living room, hurrying toward the exclamation.

"What…" Peter stopped short and surveyed the destruction of the couch Olivia had been sitting on.

"I told you no demonstrations kid!" Olivia was irate, slowly stalking toward the teenager while an elated smile vanished from his face.

"What did you do?" Claire asked a little amazed at the burnt remains of the aged piece of furniture.

"My ability…it's like a microwave. Some stuff burns, water boils, plastic melts…" Luke had a bit of a nervous waver to his voice as he warily eyed Olivia closing the gap between them.

"You could have just explained that to me in the first place kid!" Olivia growled through gritted teeth.

Peter felt a sudden need to step in as Olivia's lips became thinner and thinner and her eyebrows pulled down as far as they would go. "Ok why don't we all take a break? Claire, you and Luke see if there's anything to eat in the kitchen."

Claire nodded dutifully, grabbing Luke's elbow and quietly disappearing from the room. Cautiously Peter stepped a few inches closer to Olivia who had taken to squeezing her eyes shut and balling up her fists.

She couldn't believe she had been so stupid. She thought the stupid kid would just do as he was told. Instead, while she was busy trying to sense Sylar on the floor above, Luke decided he would try to be impressive and charbroil the couch as she sat distracted upon it. _Now_, she was 99 percent sure she absorbed his ability as a perverse gleefulness spread through her almost the instant he used it.

The last thing she wanted was _another_ ability, especially since that morning in the shower she had mysteriously managed to electrocute herself for a brief second. She just kept thinking about the unforgettable image of Sylar zapping the agent outside the motel. Her hand had still been firmly gripped around his and she clearly felt the crippling amount of pain he harbored as his hand had come to life with electricity. In the hopes of seeing if the ability would return she even decided to do the dishes, thinking perhaps the water would bring it back…but nothing had come of the activity except clean dishes.

"I would say let's sit down, but…" Peter attempted to lighten the mood but only marginally succeed as Olivia opened her eyes and relaxed at the very least.

She completely ignored the joke, "How did you do it?" Her tone sounded like she was a million miles away.

Peter knew exactly what she was talking about. How did he manage to have multiple abilities without knowing how to use them? He had feared that her obvious anger toward Luke had more to do with _her_ than with him, and now it was confirmed.

"It wasn't easy. I had help actually, which is what you need." He saw as soon as he said that her eyes quickly darted upward then back down again. "But I'm not the one to do that."

She looked blankly at him, then softened her eyes and put her head down. "I know. Thing is…I'm not really used to help. And don't you have to trust somebody if you are going to let them help you?"

A chill went down Peter's back and he froze as he processed her meaning. Olivia looked at him and smiled sardonically at his discomfort.

"I know there's something he isn't telling me. Come on Peter, I do have empathy after all, and the more time I spend thinking about it and putting things together, the less I want to know what it is." She was upset, but greatly controlled. "I mean, are you going to tell me that Claire _doesn't_ want to see him dead…or maybe I should show you how guilty he felt the second he looked at her."

Peter was shocked. "Wait…guilty?"

Olivia slumped with a sigh, "The fact that you just asked me that does not put my mind at ease." She sat down hard in the armchair and feeling chills immediately sprang up again, looking back at it with a curious expression.

"But…then why…" Peter struggled to find a way to tactfully ask why she hadn't yet run for her life.

She seemed to get his hesitation, "It doesn't scare me like I know it should. It's bad, I understand that. But I just can't seem to be afraid of him." She suddenly let out a loud frustrated laugh, "I mean hell, I would like to go up there right now and make sure he's ok…but I won't because it has to be his decision to tell me."

Saying Peter was surprised at her fortitude was a bit of an understatement. He wondered if it could be that he had not given her enough credit before, assuming that she would not be able to handle Sylar's secrets. This consideration just left Peter grasping for an explanation to the dream his mother told Claire about. The next words out of his mouth were by no means out of his control, but he knew they might have a rather adverse outcome if he was wrong about the effect she was having on Sylar.

"I think you _should_ go talk to him. Talk to him about what's going on with _you_, not him. He is the one to help you Olivia…and truthfully he might not be able to do it without a little prompting first."

She thought on this for a second, trying to find a valid reason that she shouldn't open up to him like she had before, however unintentional...however effortless. The only thing holding her back was the mere fact that she hadn't wanted to share anything about herself with anyone since…she stopped herself right there, realizing how extinct her old life was, along with all the old misconceptions and generalizations about her character that she had come to accept as things that could not be changed.

"You're right." She nodded absently, and without another glance at Peter she ascended the stairs.

***

Maggie was honestly surprised at the speed with which Molly was able to locate both Peter and Daphne. All the girl required was a map and a few push pins.

"Newark. Ok, good Molly you found Peter. Now what about Daphne?" Maggie could see that Matt was impatiently shifting as he spoke but didn't think that Molly had picked up on it.

"Back to Washington." He said sounding a bit deflated.

Things moved rather quickly at Matt's insistence. He made sure that Maggie and Molly had everything they would need, which wasn't much, and Maggie called in a car rental with the smallest of hopes that her credit card hadn't been shut off by the government. She always thought that things like that only happened in the movies, and was grateful when the customer service employee confirmed a reserved rental in her name.

"Ok, so you give Peter the address in Washington." Matt handed Maggie a slip of paper.

Maggie looked into the waiting cab at Molly as she settled in for the ride to pick up the rental car. "Won't you consider waiting at least an hour until you leave? Newark isn't far, and then you won't have such a big head start."

Matt looked at her with sadness and regret. "Maggie I'm so sorry I dragged you into this. I'm so grateful for your help…I couldn't have done any of this without you…but I'm so sorry."

Maggie couldn't truthfully tell him it was ok, because it wasn't, but it was what happened and there was no way of changing it now. "I know." The silence between them then was deafening. "Be careful, ok."

Matt smiled. "You too."

They hugged briefly, Maggie got in the cab and they drove off.

It was only a two hour drive to Newark, and maybe an extra 20 minutes to the address Molly had conjured. They passed the ride mostly in silence even though there were a number of times Maggie wanted to say something comforting to the girl.

Finally Molly was the one to speak up. "Are my foster parents ok?"

The question caught Maggie off guard and she hesitated. Molly took this as a bad sign and immediately put a sour look on her face.

"They're fine Molly. Rick was unconscious but the paramedics came and took care of him and Sarah. They're gonna be ok." Maggie could tell she was upset about more than just what happened to her foster parents, but what Matt was on his way to do as well.

After that Molly seemed rather adverse to continued conversation and quietly played with the radio until she came upon a pop music station. Maggie was not particularly a fan, but if it made Molly happy, then she was happy. The time passed quickly with Maggie glued to the car's GPS, and her young passenger watching out the window and occasionally tapping her foot to the beat of a song.

The polite female voice belonging to the GPS system made both of them jump as she informed them of their arrival at their chosen destination. Maggie finally started to get a little nervous as she had little idea what to expect. Matt told her all about Peter, what a great friend he was…but he also said that Peter was gathering help, and who knew what kind of people constituted _help_ in the world of abilities.

She peered nervously at the unassuming house then down at Molly who still wore a sad frown.

"Doesn't look so bad, huh?" Maggie's attempt at reassurance was far from victorious.

Without a word Molly got out of the car staring impassively at the house. Maggie quickly followed suit and joined the girl on the sidewalk.

"Ready to go?" Maggie asked thoughtfully.

The girl looked up at her and, much to Maggie's surprise, reached up and grabbed her hand. They smiled hopefully at each other and started forward.

***

Two soft knocks came at the bedroom door and all Sylar could think was _go away_. He wasn't so much struggling with, but resisting the thing he couldn't quite put into words. Whether he was losing himself or finding himself he had no idea, but he was sure that what scared him the most was that he wasn't scared…like he'd been waiting for it. Seeing Claire had brought up so many questions and memories that he had been adamantly avoiding until now.

He would always be a victim of his own ability no matter what anyone thought of him. Rather unlike Elle who chose to use her ability for the pleasure of it. He saw now why he had killed her; deep down inside he wanted to put her out of her misery. It was never about her affecting him the way Olivia was now. He knew Elle could never change, not like he had, and she would never stop killing simply because it had always been her choice, not a choice that was made for her. The glimpse of another life, a good life, was something that Gabriel wouldn't forget…no matter how false and ephemeral it may have been. In one form or another he had seen all of his victims as being broken only in an effort to avoid seeing what was broken in himself. His ability allowed his brain change, mimic the physiology of another's in order to gain access to their ability…it never occurred to him that given the opportunity it could mold itself into a healthy functioning organ, free from the hunger that plagued him. The chance to understand how an unburdened mind worked had never clearly presented itself until now. That's not to say he thought himself a completely changed man, far from it, but he knew that as long as he stayed around Olivia he might actually get that chance she had talked about.

"Sylar, it's me. Can I come in?"

With a deep breath and a long slow blink he moved to open the door to reveal Olivia waiting patiently on the other side. He moved aside allowing her to enter the room unobstructed. After the door was closed and he noted she sat on the bed and not in the single person chair by the window, he sat down next to her without a word.

Olivia realized quickly that she would have to carry the conversation and decided to jump right in. "I absorbed that kid's ability." She waited for a response but received none, just his oddly peaceful stare towards the floor, so she continued, "And this morning in the shower I electrocuted myself with that electrokinesis thing you showed me."

Sylar did look at her then, smiling apologetically. "I thought you might have picked that one up at the motel."

She looked at him withholding her surprise. "Yeah, that was what I thought too."

After a long pause Sylar became curious about the other ability she mentioned. "What's the kid's ability?"

"Some microwave beam emission thing. Apparently you can burn things, boil water…whatever. It'll come in really handy when I'm cooking." Her voice was sullen.

"Hmm." Sylar said with a nod.

"That's five now, including the empathic mimicry. Five abilities that I have little to zero idea how to control." She remained outwardly calm, but Sylar could hear the tiny crack in her voice.

"You did a pretty good job with the telekinesis…you'll get the hang of the rest of 'em." Sylar thought he was being reassuring, but one look at her expression wiped out that assumption.

"I don't know what I'm doing…I mean I zapped myself in the shower…that can't be good for the heart."

Sylar wanted to chuckle, but thought better of it. Instead he turned to her and said the most encouraging thing he could think of. "At least you couldn't boil yourself alive yet." He knew it would make her laugh a little, and he was right.

"Ahhh, I'm already tired of this craziness and it's only been what, three days." She rubbed her face rapidly with both hands. "You have multiple abilities…how do _you_ do it?"

"My situation is a little bit different. I don't absorb abilities the same way you do. Technically I don't absorb abilities at all. My brain actually changes to mirror how someone else's works, that allows me to physiologically mimic abilities once I understand them. Though, I did once take an ability through empathy…the electrokinesis actually." He explained smoothly.

"How does _that_ happen?" She questioned surprised.

"You know, I'm not sure I really understood that one."

"So then what happens to me when I absorb something? Why doesn't my brain change?" She asked getting back on track.

"Like I said, it's not an ability I understand very well. From what I've witnessed because of Peter, it has more to do with your emotions than your understanding of the ability itself."

Olivia was a little perplexed. "But, why don't you understand my ability when you have…wait, how many abilities do you have?"

"A bunch." The response had a little bite that accompanied the roll of his eyes.

"More than five?"

He didn't answer.

"More than 10?" She asked as her eyes got a little wider.

"Olivia." His tone was cautionary, but after a moment he realized she had not asked him a single question about what had happened earlier. "Why are you more curious about the number of abilities I have than about Claire and I?"

Olivia was honestly startled that he brought it up, especially after his retreat to solitary so clearly exhibited the troubled effect the moment had on him. "I just figured it had something to do with what you weren't telling me. And it's not like I wasn't there and didn't feel what was happening. I thought parts of me were going to explode actually…not the most pleasant experience. But then I'm sure it was no picnic for either of you."

Sylar didn't comment, but he did nod in agreement.

"But hey," she moved close and bumped his shoulder with own, "at least you didn't electrocute yourself in the shower this morning, or have the honor of sitting on a burning couch." She smiled winningly.

He laughed at first but lack of understanding eventually had him looking curiously at her. "What burning couch?"

"Uh," she laughed nervously, "Luke kinda set it on fire when he showed me his ability."

"While you were on it!" He tensed and glared up through his lashes toward the bedroom door.

"It's no big deal. On a scale from one to ten of weirdness in the past three days, that was like a four." The joke wasn't just to hide her anger, but to try and subdue what she felt coming from him.

His lie detector tingled and he shook his head at her pointless fib and decided to let the conversation drop. "Olivia…" his voice got low and serious, "logically speaking if you absorb your abilities through emotion, then control of each ability most likely evolves from control of a particular emotion. You've already learned how to project your emotions over a small group of people…if you can do _that_ then you can do this." Sincerity played all over his face.

The sudden urge to hug people didn't hit her very often, but it came upon her out of nowhere and she didn't stop herself. Sylar seemed as surprised as she felt, and the awkward position of sitting next to each other on the bed allowed him to only wrap his arm around her back, unless he intended to pull her into his lap.

"Olivia, I wanted to tell you something." They pulled out of the unexpected hug. She eyed him curiously.

"This is about…"

"Yeah." He yelled at himself to just do it, but as if fate was kicking him right in the face Olivia suddenly jumped off the bed toward the window.

"People!" She exclaimed.

That had Sylar's attention. "What?!"

They both stared out the window at the woman and young girl getting out of their car. While Olivia watched anxiously Sylar instantly recognized the girl. Immediately Olivia felt the shift in his emotions, recognizing that certain feeling from earlier with Claire.

"Gabriel…" She let his name hang in the air, hoping for a response.

"I killed her family." He answered in his head, where no one else could hear him.


	21. Chapter 21

So, I'm back...I still don't own anything, though I am thinking of going and throwing a large quantity of rocks at NBC's studio headquarters for canceling my beloved Hereos...

It has been about a year since I've updated this story. Truthfully I got a bit stuck, then I got frustrated about being stuck and decided to take a break from this story. But despair no longer, I have finally found the courage to come back and finish. So read, enjoy, and review if you'd like.

Chapter 21

Olivia realized instantly something was very amiss. If not by the emotion suffocating her from all angles, then by the look of guilt soaked terror on Sylar's face. She sensed two people entering the house below, and felt amazement at her ability for a split second before coming back to the moment.

Sylar continued his sullen stare out the window even after Molly had disappeared from view. This was turning into more of a nightmare than Elle telling him he did in fact have a soul. He was out of ideas. If not for Peter, Claire would have been happy to give a full accounting of the atrocities he'd committed to an already slightly unsettled Olivia. Now, when he had been sure it couldn't get any worse, it in fact exploded into a shrapnel cloud of death and torture. All his past crimes come back to not just haunt him, but to stare him in the face while jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction. Of course it had to happen now, the first time he felt there was an honest chance of putting the monster back in its box. It was all connected. Claire and Molly stepping right in the middle of all this was part of overcoming the hunger and forgiving himself, and it filled him with a dread so hollow and debilitating he felt his body might collapse in on itself. He knew he couldn't turn away from this. Doing so would be turning his back on what was certainly his last chance to change, and abandoning Olivia to venture through his and Peters world without a compass.

He turned to her, his head bowed in solemnity, and quietly said, "I have to tell you something."

...

"He did what?" Peter squeezed his eyes shut shaking his head and marched past the charred furniture. "Is he crazy, he's gonna get himself killed!"

Knowing the gravity of the situation, Claire smiled down at Molly. "Hey Molly, do you wanna come in the kitchen with me? We have cookies." She held out her hand.

"We don't have time for that Claire." Peter stood rigidly in the middle of the room with his back turned on everyone.

"There's always time for cookies." Luke's attempt at humor was met with blaring silence and more than one unfriendly look.

Maggie looked apologetically from one person to the next. "I'm sorry to just barge in with this…I couldn't stop him, and he said we'd be safe here. I couldn't stop him." She repeated more to herself than the others.

Peter spun around abruptly. "We've gotta go after him." He said looking quickly to the ceiling.

She knew he wasn't looking _at_ the ceiling but rather referring to _who_ was on the floor above them. Her blood boiled thinking of Sylar as someone she would have to work alongside, but Matt was in trouble. Peter wouldn't sit by and let his friend walk into that place alone, and she'd be damned if she allowed Peter to do the same thing.

"I'll go get them." Claire did the best she could to swallow her hate, walked past Peter's unbelieving expression and headed up the stairs.

...

Olivia took a tentative step forward pressing her thighs against the windowsill. Behind her Sylar sat on the edge of the bed. A second ago Olivia had been sitting next to him listening as he spoke. Now the only sound in the room was the rustle of Sylar's clothing as he shifted nervously. Through the entire two minute recounting of his past deeds he had not once looked her in the eye. While he waited to hear her say anything, he could do no more than stare down at his own hands. The same hands that murdered too many people to want to remember them all, now sitting clasped tightly in his lap as he sat in shame at the things he had done. He might have chuckled at the irony if the situation hadn't been so disgustingly morbid.

_A killer._

Olivia starred out the window while chewing on her lower lip.

_A killer who takes trophies._

David's face flashed in her mind slicing a gash of sharp, fresh pain straight through her. Was it the same thing? Was Sylar any better than Roy Elmer? If she'd had this ability as a child would she have felt the same hopelessness and guilt from Roy as she had from Sylar? Would she have ached with sincerity and shame as Roy confessed to his crimes as she had when Sylar confessed to his? The truth was she would never know. Those questions would never be answered, and it was strangely right that they wouldn't. Some things are meant to happen the way they do, Olivia had always believed that to some extent. Until now a time had never presented itself where she had to decide whether or not she _truly_ believed that, or if it was just a glimmer of hope, an idea she grasped at to quell despair. If there really was such a thing as fate or destiny, how could she turn away from him when they so clearly needed each other to become who they were meant to be?

Inside the bedroom the air was heavy, like breathing mist. Sylar heard Olivia's feet move against the carpet and he waited for the door to open and close behind her without a word spoken. Instead her hand came into view as she reached down and pulled one of his from his lap. Slowly he looked up finally meeting her eyes. He looked at her not surprised or astonished, but with a queer sort of serenity. He squeezed her hand and she reciprocated before letting go and heading for the door. For a second Sylar thought she was going to leave, but when she opened it Claire was on the other side barely having lifted her arm to knock. Olivia didn't seem the least bit surprised. The same couldn't be said for Claire as she gasped and twitched backward in a show of shock.

"Sorry." Olivia smiled feeling calm and collected for the first time since she forced it at the motel.

Claire could feel her heart rate immediately begin to slow and her muscles relax. She even felt a small contented smile form at the corners of her mouth. She sighed audibly and asked Olivia and Sylar if they would join Peter and herself downstairs. Somewhere inside she knew the message should have sounded much more like a tornado warning than an alarm clock, and she should have been glaring daggers at Sylar but for those brief seconds the apprehension and urgency had disappeared.

Sylar and Olivia both watched as Claire strolled back down the hall. When Olivia turned back to him she was smiling a bit mischievously.

"Neat trick." Sylar commented with a smirk of his own.

"It's not a trick. A very smart man once told me my ability was rare and useful and I needed to learn to respect it."

They both smiled at the memory of his words at the motel.

"Come on. Claire may not have looked it, but everyone downstairs is freaking out…accept for that Luke kid."

As Sylar passed her in the doorway he paused and looked down. He could have sworn he saw forgiveness in her eyes.

...

"Senator Petrelli Sir?"

Nathan turned from the view of his temporary penthouse apartment in D.C. to find Major Richard Alcott standing at attention. "At ease Major." He stepped toward the man with his hand extended. The major shook the Senator's hand with a firmness that should be reserved only for UFC fighters.

"Pleasure Senator." The man responded with a nod.

"Major I'm going to get right to the point because I don't want to waste your time. I'm looking for someone to head a retrieval team, someone who can get the job done as quietly and efficiently as possible. I've had a look into your military record and I have to say I'm quiet impressed with your capacity to defuse a situation before it escalates out of control. Your superiors used words like composed and adroit when describing your command abilities. I think you could be a born leader Major Alcott, what do you think?" Nathan was one charismatic man and he worked that every chance he got.

"I appreciate you saying so Senator. If you need someone with command skill and discretion then I'm your man." Spoken like a true soldier.

Nathan moved to stand next to Major Alcott looking out over the city. "You've seen the board? You know who Sylar is?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, that's good Major. Then you'll know what you're getting yourself into." Nathan clapped a strong hand on the Majors shoulder.

"Sir?" Major Alcott was perplexed. "Isn't Sylar dead?"

"No Major, he's not. The very fact that you thought he was dead is the reason I'm about to say what I'm going to say. He's cunning, he's powerful, he's virtually unkillable…but none of that means anything compared to his own self importance. He's a man who needs to have control, needs to pull on the strings of every puppet around him. If you give him that advantage even for an instant, you're already dead." Nathan sighed a deep theatrical sigh. "Sylar is so important to what I'm trying to do Major. He's a killer, a monster. And if we can get him off the streets then we will have done something so good, so right for the citizens of this country…well, I don't know about you but I'd sleep a hell of a lot better at night knowing we stopped a mass murderer. What do you say? You on the team?"

Major Alcott was inspired by Nathans speech. "Absolutely Sir."

"Terrific." Nathan clapped the Majors shoulder again and moved off toward the window. "Your team will head to the home of Samson Gray in New Jersey, it's the last place Sylar was seen and I have a hunch he may return. I emailed the file to you and the team is assembled and will await your command before setting out tonight. I don't want any civilians hurt. And Major…" Nathan turned around, "Danko is to have no knowledge of this, do you understand?"

"Completely Sir."

"Good. You'll report back to me at Building 26 when you've captured the target."

"Yes Sir." Major Alcott saluted Nathan, turned on his heal and walked out.

Nathan once again turned back to the view inhaling slowly. He would be there when they brought Sylar in, he would see the look on Danko's face when Nathan walked him into a cell and closed the door. It occurred to him that his satisfaction came more from his defeat of Danko than his triumph over Sylar, but he didn't care. Just knowing the little bald power monger might very well soon find himself stationed in a far away country, in the middle of nowhere checking passports at some ambiguous border, was enough to motivate him for perhaps the remainder of the operation. He smiled at his ghostly reflection in the window before heading out the door to await the arrival of his soon to be greatest victory.

...

Daphne hadn't exactly been sleeping the whole day. It was more like drifting in and out of a very uncomfortable and painful dream, only it wasn't so much a dream as her shoulder aching for the power robbing morphine coma of the day before. More than once she almost opened her eyes to ask Mohinder for an extra dab of numbing ointment or a few extra ibuprofen, but she was still too angry and frustrated with his plan to want to talk to him. He had changed her bandage in silence earlier in the day as she feigned sleep. Working to keep from wincing was quite a feat but she had managed, mostly by casually rolling her head away from him so she could bite her lip discreetly.

"Daphne, Daphne?" Mohinder touched her lightly on her good shoulder hoping to gently rouse her from slumber.

"What?" She answered very clearly, making it obvious she hadn't been asleep at all.

"It's time. Come on, I've got some clothes for you." Mohinder emptied a canvas back spilling jeans, a shirt, socks and a pair of sneakers onto the bed.

"How did you get these?" She asked momentarily distracted by the mystery of the clothing.

"Does it matter? I'll change your dressing again, then you'll put these on and be ready to go." He jittered across the room grabbing the necessary items for redressing her wound.

Daphne was still too stunned to move. "Wait, we're doing this today?"

"Tonight actually, as soon as the sun sets. There will be fewer personnel, less people on the streets once you have exited the building and a better chance of hiding once outside should you need to do so."

Daphne hissed at the tugging on her skin. "Ow, but I thought that…" She stopped, suddenly overcome with anticipation at seeing Matt again. It wiped away all the resentment and fear caused by Mohinder's desire to find a cure. The very real prospect that in a few short hours she would be on her way towards Matt's open arms superseded any doubts she'd had about actually making it out of the building. Now Mohinder's insane diversion ploy and the idea for her to simply run like the wind seemed like the best plan she had ever heard.

"Daphne? What is it?" He had diverted attention from his task to find her in a very contemplative state.

"Uh nothing," she shook the fog away, "sounds great, let's do this. Just one thing?"

"Yes?"

"How exactly does this diversion thing work? I mean, what are you gonna do? It's not like you can just pull the fire alarm or something."

Mohinder chuckled. "No I certainly can't do that. I'm simply going to fight my way down one end of the hall while you disappear down the other."

"Simply huh? How simply exactly?" Daphne wasn't so much worried about Mohinder's ability to fight, but his stamina to keep the diversion going long enough for her to get out of the building. "I don't want to rain on the parade here but my shoulder is killing me and morphine shot or not, I don't know how fast I'm gonna be able to speed my way out of here."

"I'm not worried. I'm sure I'll give you more than enough time." The anger he harbored toward their captures was more than enough fuel to keep him going all night if the need arose. "There we are gauze and ointment applied. I'm going to wrap your shoulder in an ace bandage. It'll inhibit movement a bit but that's a good thing when healing from a gunshot…"

"Just not for when you're running for your life."

"Well, yes true. But you'll be happy for it later. I'm giving you three ibuprofen now and 3 more 45 minutes or so before we're ready. I'm also going to give you these, they're painkillers, Percocet. Take them only after you're safe, understand?" He showed her the bottle before setting it atop the pile of clothes.

"I understand." She stared at the bottle feeling guilty for being so angry with him.

"And you'll need to see a doctor as soon as possible to make sure you're healing without infection and to get the stitches out. Oh and you'll also need to go to a drug store and get…"

"Mohinder, Mohinder! I got it."

"Yes well…" He was anxious. More than that, he was scared.

Daphne didn't deserve to be here. None of them deserved to be here, except maybe Sylar. The mere fact that they even had to plan an escape from a secure government facility was ludicrous and unfair. She should have been with Matt zipping around the city, enjoying their lives together, but no. He was determined to get her back to Matt if not to a normal life, and having to risk their lives to do just that was eating at him. He told himself it had to work, it just had to. In less than two hours he'd find out if it would.


	22. Chapter 22

I don't own Heroes in any way, shape, or form...boohoo

Yes, as a matter of fact I _am_ alive. I don't have any fancy excuses or crazy stories to tell about why I stopped writing this...life just gets in the way sometimes. But, I never stopped thinking about this story and always knew (hoped) I'd come back to finish it one day. With the series at a close and nothing much good on tv to watch (since they insist on possibly canceling all of my favorite shows) I have decided it's time to get on with it. So here we go again...

Chapter 22

Claire stopped in the kitchen doorway watching Peter, Olivia and Sylar in quiet conversation huddled in the far corner of the living room. Peter sequestered Molly to the kitchen with Luke before Sylar and Olivia had come downstairs. The girl was unaware that Sylar was at the house, and Peter was determined it should stay that way.

"Claire?" Molly's voice cracked the quiet.

"Yeah?"

"Matt's ok right?"

For a second Claire was lost for an answer. "He's going to be…we all are."

A second of awkward silence passed, Molly returned to picking at her stale Oreo cookie. Claire realized Molly knew she'd lied, but the girl needed a little hope. They all did.

"Stay in the kitchen with Luke ok." Before Luke could spew cookie crumbs across the table in protest Claire walked away.

"I don't think that's going to work." Sylar was saying as Claire joined the trio to stand next to her uncle.

"What do _you_ suggest?" Peter antagonized.

"He's right Peter. I've been able to sense a small number of people in a small space. You're talking about trying to sense and recognize someone I've never met in a building full of people, in a city of_ millions_. I don't think I can do that yet, I'm sorry." Olivia sighed with desperation.

"What about Molly?" Claire offered.

"What about her?" Peter peered toward the kitchen.

"She can tell us where Daphne and Matt are."

"Wouldn't help." Peter shook his head. "By the time we got there they could have been moved. A different floor, a different room…"

"So we bring her along…" Claire offered.

"Not a chance!" Maggie appeared behind them at the bottom of the stairs to join the conversation.

"Ok…" Sylar sharply interrupted, "then _what_?"

Peter's mouth was quicker than his brain. "Molly gives Olivia her ability."

"What?" Olivia chirped with surprise.

"Absolutely not!" Sylar shouted over Olivia's exclamation. He took a deep breath before continuing as everyone stared at him in surprise. "Even if we had enough time for her to learn an ability like that, which we don't, adding another one to her arsenal right now would only make it more difficult to concentrate on controlling what she already has. You know that better than anyone Peter." Sylar glanced sideways at Olivia hoping he hadn't spoken out of turn, but she was nodding vigorously in agreement.

Peter couldn't argue, but he did realize a detail that had been overlooked. "There is one thing that she's gonna need." He swiftly grabbed Olivia's wrist and began to hover a few inches of the ground. "You're gonna need to learn how to fly."

...

"He's off his rocker." Olivia complained.

Sylar smiled. "True, but he can't fly Maggie, you and me out to Washington. Here give me your hands and try to relax. Remember what I told you at the motel try and bring back the feeling you had when Peter was hovering."

"Yeah, let's bring back the terrifying memory of being attacked at the motel. Thanks for _that_ soothing reminder." Despite her annoyed sarcasm she gently set her hands in his.

He felt the warmth of her skin and the tenseness in her hands.

"Did I mention I'm not a fan of heights?" She squeaked.

"About 10 times." He smiled. "But that fear only comes from the danger of falling. You're not gonna fall, trust me. Now try to concentrate." He looked down at her fingers clenched around his finding an unexpected anger stir. She had to learn an ability she didn't want to have in order to get them somewhere to do something that could get them all killed. For the first time ever, and for more than a few seconds, he wished abilities didn't exist.

Peter quickly noted Olivia's slow progress as he came down the stairs, Claire falling in line behind him. "Maggie says she's ready when you are."

"Good." He responded absently as his attention locked on Olivia's failed attempt to hover.

"Then as soon as Olivia can get in the air we can leave." She said, following Peter's line of sight.

"You're not coming." Peter replied leading her into the kitchen.

Claire stopped, shocked and annoyed. "You're kidding right?"

He pulled her gently through the doorway making sure of Luke and Molly's presence in the back yard before giving his planned speech.

"I need you here Claire."

"I am not…"

"Just listen to me for a minute. I know what my mother told you. I know you want to help me because she convinced you I'm in some horrible danger. Truth is we are all in danger and right now what would help me the most is to know that you and that little girl out there are as far away from Nathan and Building 26 as possible."

Claire was stuck tightly between fuming anger at being left out, and swelling appreciation and love that he trusted her and wanted to keep her safe. "I can't let you do this alone Peter. Angela said…"

"She has her own agenda Claire, she always does. It's her game, manipulating people to her own end. And I'm not alone; Maggie, Olivia, and Sylar will be with me."

She looked toward the back yard away from his pleading stare knowing that she would do as he asked, not liking it one bit.

"Please Claire," Peter squeezed his nieces shoulder, "protect that little girl. Make sure she's safe for when we bring back Matt and Daphne…make sure you're safe for when I come back."

She looked back at him then, any hint of anger or resentment wiped from her expression replaced by concern and fear for the one member of the Petrelli family she counted on and trusted the most. "Fine…but make sure you _do_ actually come back, ok?"

Peter pulled her into a firm hug holding her there as Sylar entered the doorway clearing his throat, reluctant to intrude on the moment. "I think she's ready."

Claire held onto Peter a few seconds longer, quickly wiping away tears as they broke apart. Looking up at him she forced a smile, hoping she was making the right decision by staying behind. Reluctantly Peter walked away leaving her to stand in the kitchen listening to Molly and Luke chatting in the back yard, and Olivia remind Sylar one last time how much she hated heights as the four of them prepared for lift off.

...

"Right here's fine." Matt handed the driver money and exited the cab a few blocks down from his ultimate destination.

The sun was already below the horizon as his feet smacked against the city sidewalk. He buried his clenching fists deep into his pockets, feeling a slick layer of perspiration coat his palms. It wasn't the nerves, or the fear…it was the anger. The unfairness of the whole thing made his stomach turn and twist in ways he hadn't been aware it could. These abilities were supposed to be gifts; the next step in human evolution was what Mohinder had once said. As the breeze swept past him lost in his memories, there wasn't a time he could recall that he would say he'd been a better man because of this evolutionary advancement. All he could remember were moments when either he or someone he cared about had been in danger, or running _from_ danger, or running _toward_ danger to save someone _already_ in danger…just like he was at that moment.

For the millionth time since it had happened, he replayed Daphne's shooting in his mind. He hated Danko and Nathan for what had been done to her, to all of them…but he hated himself more for what he'd done to those agents. They shot the woman he loved and were hunting him and his friends. He wanted them to realize he was human and not some mission to be accomplished. But then they were human as well and he hadn't had the self control to stop from demonstrating the very reason they were on their mission in the first place.

The weight of it all almost gave him enough pause to slow down his stride…almost. He looked up at the tall, nondescript building looming in front of him. To a member of the general public it must have appeared as nothing more than an ordinary office building, but Matt knew better. He knew the ignorance and prejudice that filled its hallways and passed through its doors.

The sky above had turned dark so that a spattering of stars shining with _just_ enough determination to pierce through the lights of the capitol could be seen. In that second before moving toward the doors of Building 26 he decided to send up a prayer, just in case somebody happened to be listening.

...

"Stop closing your eyes."

"But…"

"If you keep closing them you're going to fly us into a bird or a building." Sylar pointed out with a chuckle before leaning his face closer to her ear. "I won't let anything happen to you." He tightened his grip around her waste and felt her body relax into his as she nodded against his shoulder.

The pair picked up speed through the air closing the gap between themselves and Peter and Maggie. Sylar looked over squinting against the rushing wind to see Maggies' death grip around Peters' shoulders and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. He knew Olivia would feel his amusement at the knowledge that she wasn't the only one afraid of plummeting out of the air. It occurred to him how proud of her he was at that moment, concurring her fear of heights, among other things since they had met. His skin reddened with embarrassment wondering if she had felt his pride…then turned a darker shade at the thought that she had felt his embarrassment. This empathy thing was going to take quite a bit of getting used to, but he didn't particularly mind.

Peter turned his head toward the pair, momentarily confused by the look on Sylars' face. He'd never seen the man so relaxed, so comfortable. He noted the careful strength he used to secure himself to Olivia, holding her like she might drop from the sky at any moment and if she did he was determined to drop with her to break the fall. Sylars' eyes slowly closed with a small smile playing on his lips. Peter could almost hear his sigh of contentment. He focused his attention back to the horizon seeing the skyline of Washington D.C. drawing closer with every passing second. Confidence swelled in his chest, his muscles coming alive with energy. Two empathic mimics, a tough as nails social worker with fault detection, and a reforming serial killer with a multitude of abilities…Peter let a small smile play on his _own_ lips as he began to think they might actually make it out of this alive.

...

"Are you sure you have everything?"

Daphne glared in annoyance as Mohinder asked her the same question for the tenth time in as many minutes. The near debilitating burning in her shoulder was not helping her mood either.

"Yes." She hissed through gritted teeth.

Mohinder inconspicuously glanced through the window in the door of the lab. "Now remember, Matt needs to waste no time in finding Molly…"

"Yeah I know, Tracy Strauss. Find her and we're likely to find anyone else they've nabbed. I got it Mohinder." Daphne spat out anxiously.

A sheepish frown swept across his face, "I'm sorry. I've gone over this quite a lot haven't I?"

"Ya think a little?"

Mohinder turned his attention back to the hallway as an agent glided past the door without taking notice of the man and woman standing just inside. The geneticists' heartbeat quickened as he watched the man disappear past the peripheral vision of the small window. He knew their moment had come.

"There's at least one agent at the end of the hall to the left. With any luck his attention won't be directed toward the door when I break the lock, but if it is be prepared to move right away. Otherwise do just as we planned. Wait for me to leave the room, count to ten and head in the opposite direction. The room on the left at the end of the hall is an employee bathroom. Duck in there…"

"…and wait for the alarm to sound, exit the bathroom, turn right and book it to the stairwell down to the first floor, through the lobby and out to the street. I got it."

Mohinder took little notice of the cutting tone of her voice as she finished the instructions, his mind concentrated wholly on the task at hand. He thought when the moment came that he'd be scared or nervous, instead he was filled with a calm determination to do whatever it took to allow Daphne to escape back to Matt. As he stood with his hand on the knob ready to rip the entire door off its hinges if need be, he turned to Daphne with the most tender and apologetic look she had ever seen.

"I'm sorry Daphne…for everything that's happened. If I had spoken up sooner, if I had taken Noah's warning seriously perhaps none of this would be happening. I can't change the past; I can only do everything in my power to secure a peaceful future. I know you don't agree, but I think that a cure would change everything."

Daphne gaped at him looking ready to jump down his throat.

"Please hear me. So many lives have been changed, ruined even, by these abilities. Nathan is living proof of that. So many lives have been enriched and bettered because of them as well. Just think the impact people like you and Peter and Matt could make if you were given the opportunity to prove to the world the good that can come from what we can do. A cure would bring our abilities into the light, force the world to acknowledge them before the government has the chance to wipe us out one at a time. Don't you see Daphne? That is your destiny…to help people learn about and understand us, to stand up and fight along side us to stop the extermination of these incredible gifts. A cure will give anyone who doesn't want to be different the chance to change, and present an alternative to imprisonment for anyone who doesn't care enough to do right by the power they were born with. Our abilities have the chance to truly save the world, but only if we have the means to stop anyone who would try to destroy it before we have that chance."

Daphne stared at Mohinder for quite some time, carefully considering the impassioned argument he had given. She had never been the kind of girl to talk about destiny, but then she never thought she would be someone who would want to settle down and live a normal happy life with a man that loved her more than the moon and the stars. The chance to change the world, to show everyone what she could do and the good that could come out of it sounded like something she would very much like to incorporate into hers and Matt's normal happy life. She couldn't completely throw herself on Mohinder's bandwagon since the idea of a cure coming anywhere near her made her skin crawl, but for the first time she could see his line of logic…the good that could come out of it.

Her soft smile spread to her eyes as she placed a hand on Mohinder's arm. "How about we get going on this destiny thing huh?"

Mohinder returned the smile with just as much warmth. "You might want to stand back for this next part."

...

Quietly as he could, Matt turned the knob on the door from the second floor stairwell. Even before the heavy metal door cracked open he could hear the furious inward monologue of a man lumbering down the hall. He hadn't expected the man to pass by right in front of him as he prepared to stick his head out checking for the all clear. His heart skipped a beat as he watched the short, nearly bald man follow the hallway almost to the end before cutting into a doorway and out of sight.

A sigh of relief rushed from Matt's lungs as he leaned his perspiring forehead against the doorframe. He was loathed to find out what action he'd have taken if the man had seen him. The guard downstairs had proved difficult to handle at first, and he needed to get his concentration in check to avoid another scene like that. Though, the thought that he could leave agents behind him like a trail of breadcrumbs for Peter to follow, if Peter made it in time, was a tad enticing.

With the angry man out of range a whispered stream of consciousness filled his head. Immediately Matt made up his mind to follow the path of the bald man, the whisper getting louder as he continued down the hall.

_…Emily's gonna kill me working late on a Friday when I swore I'd be home for dinner. Better not forget to drop off that movie or she'll have my head in a vice over the late fee. Damn, forgot to check in with Drummond on four. Eh Danko'll never know, not like we keep logs. If he'd had trouble with the girl and the scientist he'd of radioed…_

Girl. Scientist. Almost all reason abandoned Matt as he nosily stalked toward the source of the thoughts. Rounding the corner through the same doorway the bald man had gone through he found himself standing in a large room filled with desks, computers, a whiteboard plastered with pictures of people he knew with abilities, and a man wearing an agents uniform staring at him mouth agape one hand hovering dangerously close to a row of flashing buttons. Matt's mind swam with images of Daphne, giving the agent the instant he needed to recognize the man standing in front of him. His finger came down hard on the only button that hadn't been flashing and the alarm squealed in Matt's ears.


End file.
